


Never Tear Us Apart

by Kjb2609



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3882520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kjb2609/pseuds/Kjb2609
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian Jones is the front man for a band who have not yet made the big time. He is also in love with his good friend (and the girlfriend of their manager) the unattainable Emma Swan. When their manager turns out not to be the man they thought, his friendship with Emma is threatened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don’t ask me, what you know is true….

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever AU multichapter. Thanks to brooke-to-broch for her beta work - and her cheerleading.  
> Musical references are inspired by my (and apparently Hook's) love for INXS and my Killian is Irish. Because I have the power.

Killian Jones was having a long hard look at himself. And the view was certainly no better from the bottom of his third shot of rum.

He couldn’t precisely pinpoint the moment when he became a sad romantic comedy cliché, and yet here he was. Drinking alone at the bar, feeling sorry for himself, he was quite sure he had seen this movie before.

It was the one where the guy was hopelessly in love with the girl....who was engaged to his old college mate and band manager. Starring him as the sad loser sighing about what was not to be. Destined to be the third wheel forever....

Perhaps that third shot had not been such a good idea. This was an impressive level of wallowing, even for him.

Shaking himself from his misery, he settled his tab and made to leave. It had been a long night. Their set had gone down well with the slightly older crowd in the bar and they played a few extra songs in appreciation, but as sleep had been eluding him quite often lately an early morning finish was not the ideal. 

Not to mention being hard pressed to focus on anyone in the crowd but her. 

She had spent the evening cuddled up close with Neal in a booth at the side of the stage, their fingers interlaced on the table. Her smile lit up her face as she listened to the set; a big fan of the retro rock he also loved, she sang along and swayed gently, mesmerising him to the point he had forgotten where he was and missed the intro to the next song. 

He was going to have to sort himself out. Pining after the unavailable Emma Swan was getting him nowhere fast. He would go home, sleep it off and work out a new plan for self-preservation in the morning. Because nothing he had tried so far was bloody working.

As he picked up his leather jacket, he felt a hand on his arm. Without looking, he knew it would be her. He could not mistake that scent that was sunshine and flowers and…Emma

"Killian, were you leaving without saying goodbye?" She looked at him in mock consternation, then she broke into a smile. He felt his earlier resolve to get over her melting away as her green eyes met his. He was a lost cause, he thought to himself wryly. One smile and he would follow her anywhere.  
"Wouldn't dream of it, lass," he replied quietly. 

"Just as well," she laughed. "Great set tonight, by the way. I just love the new song you added...I haven't heard it before?"

He breathed deeply, knowing exactly which of their set list she meant. And exactly why he had wanted to sing it so badly. Every word was what he wanted to be able to say to her, but never could. Panicked that his face would reveal too much, he forced himself into defence mode. Cocky swagger hid all manner of true feelings and he prayed it wouldn't let him down now. He felt his face shift subtlety, hoping all signs of sentiment were hidden behind the confident grin. 

"You'll have to do your research, love," he said with a wink, "Can't be telling you all my secrets. Man of mystery and all that." 

With a fake pout, she squeezed his arm and reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He felt his skin flush and fought desperately to keep his composure at such attention.

“Fair enough,” she said, “I’ll text you when I find it. Good night Killian.”

“Good night, milady,” he replied, with a fake bow. Playing it for laughs seemed the only option at this point – he could still feel her kiss on his cheek and it threatened to ruin him. 

Still smiling, she walked away in search of Neal, leaving Killian to regroup and compose himself. 

Putting on his jacket, he exhaled deeply and prepared for yet another sleepless night.

He had to stop doing this to himself. He needed to be done….with her.


	2. Chapter 2

The band stayed around for a couple of drinks after the gig. Neal had the good stuff flowing and the table was filled with raucous laughter as the musicians and their manager told tales of their rise from relative anonymity. Emma Swan had heard them all before, but there were definitely storytellers in their ranks so it never stopped being entertaining. If not slightly more embellished with each telling.

One voice was missing tonight. The soft Irish accent of the lead singer was noticeably absent, the master of the slightly off colour tale. Killian, often referred to as “Captain Innuendo”, could find humour in the most awkward of circumstances, so his stories were usually guaranteed to end in sustained periods of gasping laughter.

Emma suspected his talents were being underutilised in this cover band. With her boyfriend a band manager, she had spent a lot of time at gigs, rehearsals and festivals and she had heard a lot of guitar playing singers. But none quite like him.

When he stood on stage, lost in one of his beloved old-school power ballads, he was something to behold. He chose songs that fit his voice to perfection, plus the look in his eyes and his smile as he sang told the audience that they were experiencing the real thing.

They had played a lot of her favourites tonight. She and Killian spent a lot of time sharing tracks and it was always a thrill when she heard him play one of hers. Tonight, there had been one gorgeous ballad she hadn’t heard before, but it had given her chills when he sang it. He had caught her eye just for a moment, and for that brief second she was the only other person in the room. A flush warmed her cheeks and she looked across at Neal. When she’d turned back to Killian, his gaze was fixed again somewhere at the back of the room, as if he was in a world of his own.

She would have to ask him what that song was.

She leaned in close to Neal. “Have you seen Killian?”

Neal shook his head. “He’s probably at the bar, babe. Why don’t you go see?” 

She gave him a quick kiss and headed in that direction. Sure enough, the dark haired singer sat at the end of the bar, nursing what she imagined was rum. As she approached, he moved as if to leave. 

The look on his face was a long way from the man who usually had them all entertained, be it on stage or sitting around telling stories. Clearly something was on his mind—Emma had never seen her friend look so miserable. 

“Killian, were you leaving without saying goodbye?” She gave him an exaggerated stern look, in the hopes of coaxing a smile from him. The defeated look on his face softened quickly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, lass,” he assured her. She decided to ask him about the new song she had liked so much, hoping she might be able to download it for her iPod. Almost at once, she saw him slip into what she had come to realise was his default position – swaggery Irish charmer, she thought of it – before he answered.

"You'll have to do your research, love," he said with a wink, "Can't be telling you all my secrets. Man of mystery and all that."

She reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

“Fair enough,” she said, “I’ll text you when I find it. Good night Killian.”

‘’Good night, milady.’’ 

The stories were in full force by the time she returned. Things had definitely escalated with a few more rounds under their belts and she sat quietly, a little apart from the boys, deep in her own thoughts. Something clearly was not right with Killian and she was determined to find out what it was. The expression on his face when he didn’t know she was watching him was not something she wanted to see again. He was such a lovely guy and he deserved to be happy.

She looked across at Neal, retelling a classic while his hands gestured wildly, and she smiled. She was so lucky to have him – for most of her life she had been alone and it was wonderful to know she had someone by her side now. 

Killian was missing that and she worried about him. She knew he had a brother back in Ireland, but the band was the only family he had here. He and Neal had been college roommates, Killian on an exchange that had ended with him staying far beyond his original tenure. She knew he had been in a very serious relationship just after college, and that it had ended badly, but she had not known him to have a girlfriend since she had known him.

There had been girls, of course – he was a charming musician with possibly the most attractive accent she had ever heard - but nothing serious or lasting.  
Maybe he was lonely? Most of the other guys had girlfriends or wives and it couldn’t be easy to always be the one on your own.

As she considered that possibility, an idea began to form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thanks to Brooke2Broch, onceuponsomechaos and zengoalie for brilliant beta. And spartanguard for the banner I use on Tumblr. And if you have taken the time to read this, I thank you too. And if you leave a little something - well then I more than thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

His prediction of a sleepless night had not been far off the mark. Just that small interaction with Emma had been enough to have his mind taking him to all sorts of forbidden places, places that would do him no good in the long run. Wide awake, he picked up his phone to check the time.

4am. Brilliant. He may as well get up and do something constructive.

As he went to rise, he realised there was a new message waiting for him. Who would message him at…3am? Swiping the screen, he saw Emma’s number and he breathed heavily, running his hand through his hair. He couldn’t not look at it but he knew it wouldn’t help the sleeping situation.

_EMMA: Never Tear Us Apart, INXS. Australian. Downloaded the album._

He smiled. She had gone home after the gig to Google the song. That was unexpected. And yet, not unexpected at all. It was exactly what she would do. He quickly returned the message.

_KILLIAN: Great album, you’ll love it. Now sleep, Swan._

He wished he could take his own advice. But he was well and truly awake. As often happened when sleep eluded him, he felt his guitar calling and he rose and went into the living room. Nothing relaxed him more than feeling his fingers on the strings, picking out the tune of one of the repertoire of songs that relaxed him. Tonight he found himself strumming unfamiliar chords, following a melody that he could hear somewhere in the recesses of his brain. As he played, he realised that there was something more to this than just random chords. Grabbing his iPad, he opened his recording app so he could save whatever this was, just in case.

His eyes were finally growing heavy. Just as well, he thought, as I have to be at work in a couple of hours. Too tired to move, he put his guitar on the floor and lay down on the couch, pulling the blanket he kept on the back over himself, knowing he would regret it when his alarm went off. He was asleep within minutes.

~~~~~****~~~~~

The piercing sound of his alarm seemed to happen only moments later. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, not prepared at all to start a work day. Still, he loved his role as music teacher at the local elementary school and he knew he was fortunate to have found a job that gave him the flexibility to continue on with his own music at the same time.

A shower and a lot of coffee were the only possible solutions.

He managed to be in his classroom, jumbo sized coffee in hand, just before his first class. A head poked around his door just as the bell was about to ring.

“Good morning, Killian,” came the cheerful voice of his neighbouring teacher, Mary Margaret Blanchard. The wife of another of his old college buddies, Mary Margaret had been instrumental in him getting this job and he considered her a dear friend. Although at this moment, she was just too perky for a man who had only had a couple of hours sleep.

“Hmph,” he grunted in return. She grinned at him as his students began to file in to the room.

“Must have been a good gig last night,” she smiled. “I’ll see you at lunch and you can tell me all about it.” She disappeared into the corridor as Killian took a last long sip of his coffee. He turned, smiling, to his class and picked up his guitar to begin the lesson with one of their favourite songs.

_“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”_ As he played and the kids sang along as only 8 year olds could, he had a sudden flash of her that brought a smile to his face. Perhaps this song choice was not as random as it could have been. Despite the lack of sleep, and his mind churning over Emma, being in front of these kids was enough to energise him and get him through the morning. It was hard not to go along with the enthusiasm and he found the day’s lessons moved through at a surprising pace.

At lunch, he met Mary Margaret in the teacher’s lounge. She was carefully unpacking her meal, making Killian look unfavourably at his own meagre effort as she placed the cheese, vegie sticks and crackers carefully out on the plate.

“Dave been busy?” he asked with a grin. Mary Margaret pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows.

“To put it in words you would understand – not bloody likely,” she quipped. “So how was last night? You look tired. Don’t tell me you aren’t sleeping again.”

The way she could pack maximum questions into minimum time always amazed him. And somehow she always managed to extract the information that he was most trying to hide. Just as he was preparing an appropriately evasive response, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Hold the questions, milady, I’ll continue the interrogation shortly,” he said with a flick of his hand. Mary Margaret smiled at him indulgently. Looking down at the screen he saw a familiar number.

_EMMA: You were right._

So we were doing cryptic texts today? Excellent, he thought.

_KILLIAN: About?_

The answer came through almost immediately.

_EMMA: I loved the album. You need to add more of these songs into the set!_

He smiled at that. He had been thinking exactly that after adding Never Tear Us Apart.

_KILLIAN: You are probably right, Swan. You’ll have to send me a shortlist_.

He felt a hand on his arm and looked up at Mary Margaret.

“Emma?” she asked. He nodded, a little surprised that she could tell. Was he that obvious?

“How did you know?” His eyebrow arched in confusion.

“You don’t smile like that for anyone else,” she replied, her eyes sad. Before he could answer, his phone buzzed again.

_EMMA: I will. I have a friend coming to the gig on Friday, she’d love to meet you._

No. No, no, no. This sounded awfully like he was being set up. With a date. By Emma. Delicious irony, he supposed, if you were into that kind of thing. Which he wasn’t. He paused before replying, looking up at Mary Margaret.

“What are you and Dave doing Friday night?” he asked.

“Nothing from memory,” she replied. “What are we doing now?”

“You have to come to the gig and help me. Emma is trying to set me up with a date.” Mary Margaret gave his arm a gentle squeeze and nodded her agreement. He could see in her eyes that she had something to say on the matter, but he had decided last night that self-preservation was his goal and he was sticking to it. If Dave and Mary Margaret could run interference, he might just be able to get through it.

_KILLIAN: Great. David and Mary Margaret are coming too so it will be quite the party. See you then._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Brooke and Sparty...you know why by now!
> 
> And if you took the time to read or like or even better review....many many thanks to you.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma held her breath as she waited for Killian’s reply to her last text. She was a little afraid she was overstepping the boundaries of their friendship by springing what was essentially a blind date on him, but he was generally pretty easy-going and he had seemed OK with it. At least she hoped so.

Concerns for Killian aside, changing the plans at this point was out of the question as the invitation had already been issued to Elsa and she seemed quite open to the idea. While she may not have specifically mentioned her ulterior motive, Emma had let her know that she would get to meet the band and that their lead singer was terrific. And single.  The series of text messages she had already received regarding wardrobe choices suggested Elsa may have connected the dots.

Her plans in place, she returned her attention to her iPod. She had been listening to the INXS album on high rotation since finding it and was determined that she would send Killian some recommendations for the set list. After all, they had a very similar taste in music – something she had learned spending time with Neal at gigs.  Her boyfriend had the gift of the gab and spent a lot of time schmoozing the bar owners and the odd record company lackey that found themselves at his mercy. Early on, she realised she was not really required for all the shop talk and as a result she was often left alone with the band and their girlfriends.

While she considered them all friends in their own right now, in the early days of her relationship with Neal it had been very daunting to try and break into their circle. Friends had been few and far between in her childhood – years in the foster care system had not been kind to her and she still found it difficult making her way in new groups.  Killian had somehow sensed it and taken pity on her from the start, making sure she was comfortable and included.

She could never thank him enough for that. It had been the start of a friendship that was more valuable to her than any other she could recall.

~~~~*****~~~~

The crowd at the bar was several people deep and there was already a buzz throughout the venue. Emma always felt a little pull of excitement when it was like this, knowing that Neal would be happy and that the band would put on a great show when the crowd were ready for some entertainment.

She had arrived with Elsa, her sister Anna and her boyfriend Kris just after the band had started their first set. Thankful that they had a reserved table, she slid into the large booth next to Ruby and Belle, girlfriends of the bassist and drummer respectively, and tried to make some quick introductions over the noise. She waved at David and Mary Margaret who were seated across the table.

“Looks like a big night,” she half-shouted to Ruby, who nodded her agreement. Emma leaned over to Elsa to make herself heard.

“What do you think of the lead singer?” She grinned at her friend. Elsa smiled shyly.

“He is very good,” she replied. ”Just like you said.”

“And super hot!” added Anna, who had overheard her sister as the song had come to an end. Kris stared at her with a questioning look – until she leaned in and kissed him better with a wide smile. Grinning at her friends, Emma had a sudden realisation and looked around for Neal, who hadn’t made an appearance yet. She assumed there must be someone here tonight he needed to network with and she cast her eyes around the room.

She spotted him seated at the end of the bar, deep in discussion with the bar manager, Zelena Mills. Organising their next gig, she thought, looking proudly at her boyfriend who had worked so hard to support the boys. He laughed heartily at something Zelena said and the two clinked their glasses together. I guess the business discussion is over, thought Emma and she went to catch his eye and call him over. But before she could, the sound of her own name in Killian’s distinctive accent grabbed her attention.

“This next song is for you, Swan. Here’s to new musical discoveries.”

They launched into the opening bars of _New Sensation_ , which had been the first track on the list of recommendations she had sent him. She caught Killian’s eye and gave him a wave. He winked at her in response as he launched into the track.

Emma thought she had seen a look pass between Mary Margaret and David as he spoke, but when she looked back they merely smiled at her. She must have been imagining it.

“Let’s go and dance,” said Anna, pulling Elsa to her feet. Elsa, in turn, grabbed Emma by the hand and they made their way to the front. There was already a crowd moving to the music but they managed to find their way to an empty spot. Emma smiled up at Killian, admiring the way his fingers moved over the strings of his guitar, and letting the sound of his voice wash over her. He really was remarkable, she thought, the way his music could just sweep her away. 

She was shaken from her daydream by firm hands on her shoulders and a quick kiss on her cheek. She turned to see Neal behind her and she smiled at him.

“Hey babe,” he said. “I got you a drink, let’s go back to the table.”

“We just got here, Emma, stay and dance with us for a bit longer,” pleaded Anna.

“The music is so good, stay and dance,” added Elsa.

“Not to mention the view,” laughed Anna, digging Emma teasingly in the ribs.

The flicker of a scowl crossed Neal’s face, as he grabbed Emma’s hand.

“I haven’t seen you all night,” he complained, “I want to spend some time with you.”

Despite enjoying dancing with her friends, Emma struggled to resist his hang dog expression and she allowed him to lead her back, sliding in next to Ruby. Neal draped his arm around her shoulders as she turned her attention back to the music.

When the band took their first break, Emma beckoned Killian over to her so she could introduce him to her friends. When he stretched out his hand to shake Elsa’s, she was certain she wasn’t imagining the look between David and Mary Margaret this time – concern, perhaps, or uncertainty, although she was not sure why they would feel that way. Still, Killian seemed happy enough to sit and chat with Elsa, Anna and Kris. She could see Elsa’s shy smile as he asked her about herself and the two spoke quietly for a few minutes before Neal ushered them back on stage for their second set.

Emma smiled to herself. All seemed to be going to plan. Excellent.


	5. Chapter 5: Sometimes you kick, sometimes you get kicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: There is some language in this chapter. It's deserved, IMO, but just a heads up!

There was nothing like being on stage with a guitar, crowd pumping, singing songs that just made you feel good. Killian was really enjoying himself tonight, despite his initial reservations about meeting Emma’s friend and the whole evening being awkward. They were getting a great response from the audience, the music sounded great and he just felt alive.

Emma had nailed it with her song suggestions yet again.

The fact that she had brought a group along had certainly lessened the potential for discomfort, and with Dave and Mary Margaret at hand, he had been able to make small talk without making a fool of himself.  He had planned to make his excuses when their set was over but perhaps he would hang around for a while after all.

As they geared up for their final song of the night, the dance floor was full and he could see Emma and the other girls circled in the way only women could, obviously ready to make the most of every last minute of the music. He tried not to notice the way she seemed to stand out, her blonde hair like a beacon drawing him to her. She caught his eye and smiled warmly and he felt his breath hitch as his body reacted to her attention.

Shit. Focus Jones, he told himself. Don’t screw up another song because she smiled at you.

He made it through unscathed, his eyes planted firmly towards the back of the room as he sang. The cheers of the crowd lifted him as they finished, calling out a thank you to them all, huge grin plastered across his face.

Packing up was going to take a while, he thought, judging by the number of people milling around the stage waiting to speak to them. Not wanting to disappoint them, Killian answered questions and took selfies with as many as possible before excusing himself to join his friends.

Neal had arranged a few rounds already, if the empty glasses littering the table were anything to go by. There was no sign of the man himself, however. Killian slid into the booth next to Mary Margaret and David.

“Cassidy left this for you,” David stated, pushing a drink in his direction, unable to hide the slightly disdainful tone in his voice. The relationship between David and Neal was tenuous at best, and had been since their college days. 

“Thanks, mate,” he smiled, then tipped his glass in Mary Margaret’s direction.

“All right, milady?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied with a squeeze of his arm. “You seem to be coping all right, after all. You had a good chat with Elsa before…”

 He shrugged, deliberately avoiding her implied question.

“Emma’s friends are charming enough and with all humility intended, the show tonight was among our finest. I’m content with my lot this evening.”

Famous last words.

Killian looked across at Emma, deep in conversation with Elsa and Anna, and allowed himself a small moment of longing and regret.

Elsa would be a lovely woman to spend time with, perhaps the first step on the road to moving on, but for her one major flaw. She was not Emma Swan. He had not felt like this about a woman since _her_ …but, if he was honest with himself, this was something more than that had ever been. A real connection with a woman that took his breath away in a million different ways. The sad irony of it was his own sense of good form stopping him doing anything about it, his long-time friendship with Neal always hovering in the background. All the while still holding him back from looking for someone else, not wanting to give false hope when his heart was elsewhere.

Then there was deep-seated sense that sometimes she felt it too.

“Penny for them, mate?” Will’s heavily accented voice broke through his thoughts. Killian quickly adjusted his expression, adopting the cheeky smirk that often accompanied his interactions with the drummer.

“Just remembering the way you screwed up the intro to _Here I Go Again,_ mate,” he replied, heavy emphasis on the final syllable. Will was quick to gesture rudely in response, earning him a slapped hand from Belle.

“Behave, William,” she laughed, “And don’t mention Killian missing that high note either.”

The man in question looked heavily offended as the table erupted into laughter. His melancholy dispersed as he prepared to defend himself from an onslaught of apparent errors, determined to return the serve in equal measure.

(Saved by the Belle, he thought. And if he was making mental puns of that calibre, clearly the evening was salvageable.)

It was Anna who came to his rescue. “I thought Killian was fabulous. Well, you all were, but he was particularly good. I mean, you can really sing, don’t you think so Elsa?” Kris smiled indulgently at his girlfriend.

“Did you get all that, man?” he asked with a grin.

“I believe I did,” Killian replied, “Thank you kindly. And Swan, if you have friends with such excellent taste, you should bring them along more often.”

“Perhaps I will. You’ll come again, won’t you Elsa?” Emma smiled at him and elbowed Elsa lightly under the table. A soft flush of colour cross Elsa’s cheeks as she nodded her agreement.

He was on the receiving end of a discrete elbow of his own. Mary Margaret needed no words to convey her feelings – he could almost hear her shouting in his head about not playing with Elsa’s feelings and leading her on and being honest with himself.

He turned towards her, his quizzical eye meeting a look developed in front of hundreds of misbehaving children. There was no mistaking her meaning.

Though she was somewhat far from the mark. One small conversation was hardly a budding romance, after all.

A change of subject was in order – and maybe a change of scenery.

“Swan, what happened to our illustrious manager?” he asked. “I need to discuss a few details with him before next week’s show.” He didn’t, but finding Neal and planting him back next to Emma as a reminder might be just the bit of self-preservation he required at this moment. 

“Zelena needed him for something apparently,” she replied. “He had a text from her and he went to her office to follow up. If you find him, tell him he is supposed to be off the clock and spending time with me.”

Killian rose from the table, the movement covering the deep breath required to respond to that request with a smile.

“Most certainly, milady. I shall remind Cassidy of his priorities when I establish his whereabouts. Farewell.”

He made his way towards the manager’s office, hoping a bit of distance would help him clear his head. He had no intention of letting Elsa think he was anything more than a friendly acquaintance but clearly Mary Margaret was concerned the girl might read more into his attention.

It was a bloody nightmare.

Killian knocked sharply on the office door and pushed it open.

"Cassidy, enough business...." he started but his voice trailed off when he realised what he had walked in on. The bar manager was up against the wall, her arms tangled in Neal’s hair, lips locked together as he pushed her already short skirt up her thighs. At the sound of Killian’s voice, Neal sprang back, a panicked look in his eyes. Zelena had no such concern, continuing to rake her fingers along Neal’s shoulders as she stared directly at the intruder.

Without a word, Killian backed out of the door and slammed it shut. He took several aimless steps down the hallway, anger bubbling inside him, fists clenching until his knuckles were white.

And if a small glimmer of hope appeared in his heart, so be it.

"Killian, buddy, it’s not what it looks like."

Neal appeared behind him, still adjusting his clothes and running his hands through his hair in an attempt to tame it.

"Really, Neal, mate?" He could hear the hardness in his voice, almost spitting out the last word. "Because it looks like you are cheating on my friend. Please, do go ahead and prove me wrong."

Killian watched as Neal searched for the words that might stop him from going straight out to the bar to tell Emma exactly what he had just seen.

"It's never happened before, bud, honestly. She called me in to talk about contracts and the next thing I knew she was all over me. Said she would sweeten the deal. I tried to..."

Killian thrust a hand in Neal's face to stop him. "Don't feed me some bull about not being able to resist her. You weren't trying too hard a minute ago."

Neal hung his head. "What can I say, man? I'm weak when it comes to women. She threatened to end our gig here and I couldn't let that happen."

His next words were swallowed as Killian fisted his hand in the front of Neal's shirt and shoved him back against the wall. He leaned in close, not loosening his grip as he stared unflinchingly at the bastard.

"Don't you dare suggest you did this to help us. Don't you fucking dare." Killian's words were a hiss of unrestrained fury. He could see the fear in Neal's eyes, genuinely worried that Killian was about to let loose.

"We don't need that kind of help," he continued. "I think you saw a chance to get some and you took it. Wouldn't be the first time, would it? You forget, I saw you screw your way around the last ten years. You're not a fucking college kid anymore.”

Killian released his grip, allowing Neal to relax slightly.

“I know, man, I made a mistake. It doesn’t have to change anything.” Neal was scrambling, desperate to find a way to keep him silent. It wasn’t going to be that easy.

“But it does, Neal, because you have a wonderful woman who loves you and you are too stupid to see it. She deserves so much better.”

As the words left his mouth, Killian saw the look of fear leave Neal’s face, replaced with a sly grin that sent a cold chill down his spine.

“And there it is.” Neal’s voice was cool, almost taunting. “Your little crush on my girlfriend. Oh yeah, we all know about that. But it’s more than just a crush, isn’t it? You’re in love with her.” He laughed as Killian took a step back, out of his space.

“My feelings, whatever they may be, for Emma are not the issue here…”

“Oh but they are, buddy. Because I can see you thinking this is your big chance. Go tell her how I was fooling around and she will fall into your arms. So easy.” The tone in Neal’s voice was chilling, and Killian realised he may have lost the upper hand somehow.

“But you are going to keep this secret – because I know your secrets.  How is Emma Swan, product of the foster system, going to feel when she finds out about Milah?”

Killian’s breath hitched at the name. Angry, he pushed Neal back against the wall, two hands planted firmly on his chest. This time, no fear flickered through Neal’s eyes. Instead there was just contempt.

“Oh, she might forgive you fucking a married woman. You were young, stupid. But how will she feel when she finds out she left her son for you? I think she might be a bit sensitive about that, don’t you? Because I do.”

Neal grabbed Killian’s wrists and pushed him off, sending him stumbling back across the hallway. He braced himself against the wall, reeling from the memories that came flooding back as he thought about Swan hearing about her.

“So you are going to keep my secret, mate.” Neal almost spat the nickname, a poor imitation of Killian’s accent but unsettling, nevertheless. “Or I am going to tell her how the wonderful Killian Jones left a little boy without his mother so he could get some.”

It was enough. He had to get out of here, out of the bar altogether. Running his hands through his hair, unable to think clearly about his next move, he turned to walk away. He had nothing more to say to Neal, and he needed to think.

“I’m done,” he said, “Done with you, done with this.” He was halfway down the hall before Neal called out to him one last time.

“Don’t screw this up for me, Killian. Because it won’t end well if you do. Remember that.”

The threat ringing in his ears, Killian was gone. He stormed past the table where his bandmates were still laughing, grabbed his jacket and gestured towards the door.

“I’m going,” he said to no one in particular. “Goodnight.”

“Killian, are you all right?” Mary Margaret grabbed his arm. She and David stood, preparing to follow him out.

“Fine, love, just tired. You stay.”

And he headed towards the door, not looking back to see what reaction there was to his sudden departure. A sudden thought had him turning off his phone, unable to imagine answering concerned texts from David or Mary Margaret right now. Or worse, from Emma. Forget self-preservation. He had bigger decisions to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brooke and Spartanguard....you are amazing human beings. Thanks for your help.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, left kudos or, even better, left a comment! Your feedback is much appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Cry, baby, cry. When you’ve got to get it out.**

Killian’s sudden departure had surprised them all. By the time Neal returned to the table a few minutes later, Mary Margaret and David had left with the intention of checking up on their friend and Elsa, Anna and Kris had not been far behind.

Emma was not quite sure where it had all gone wrong.

“Did you see Killian?” she asked Neal as he slid into the booth next to her. “He seemed really upset.”

Neal put his arm around her shoulders and leaned in close, his words inaudible to the others still seated around the booth.

“We had a bit of a disagreement. Nothing serious, babe. I’ll tell you about it later.” He pulled her in for a kiss, his arm tightening around her. Emma returned it briefly, then pulled away with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Her curiosity about the reason for their argument was forefront in her mind. She hoped desperately it was nothing to do with her bringing Elsa along – Neal was not always the most tactful of human beings and if he had said something untoward…

Emma hated the idea of being caught in the middle between them. She loved Neal, but the prospect of not being able to talk music and life and nonsense with Killian was not one she relished. Her friendship circle had definitely expanded since being with Neal – it could hardly have become smaller, after all – but Killian…well, he was something a little bit more.

She was getting ahead of herself, of course. As she did. Neal said it was nothing serious and until she knew different she needed to relax.

“I’ll just send him a message to check he’s OK,” she said to Neal.

He breathed in sharply before replying, a look in his eyes that made her wonder even more what their disagreement had been about. “Sure, you do that.”

EMMA: That was a quick exit! Let me know that you are OK.

Her phone, however, remained doggedly silent. Clearly he needed some time to cool off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the next day, his voicemail message was becoming an unwelcome response and her texts went unanswered. Her finger had hovered over Mary Margaret’s number more than once in case she knew any more, but the obvious fact that he needed space held her back.

Still having no idea what had happened was maddening. Neal had headed home without telling her any more, claiming exhaustion, although she suspected it had more to do with unwillingness than anything else. 

Distraction was the key. Settling down at her desk, she was quickly engrossed in a stack of paper work related to the latest bail jumpers she was tracking down. It wasn’t the most traditional of roles, but Emma loved the sense of satisfaction she got from returning a jumper to custody. So often there was a family hurt and struggling financially thanks to these jerks, and although she may not have much in the family department herself it meant a lot to help them in some small way.

When her message tone rang, she was startled. Hoping it might finally be an answer from Killian, she reached quickly for her phone, but saw that it was Neal instead.

NEAL: Hey babe. Need to talk to you about something. Meet me at my place @7?

Checking her watch, she saw she had a couple of hours up her sleeve. Time for a leisurely bath before she headed out. Which sounded perfect after all that had happened. She tidied the papers away and grabbed her iPod before heading to the bathroom. It was the perfect opportunity to listen to the new albums she had downloaded and she felt some of the tension she was feeling melt away at the mere thought.

Music always seemed to have that effect on her.

With the water running and steam fragranced by her favourite bath oil filling the room, Emma stepped out of her yoga pants and tank and set her music player safely on the window ledge. The now familiar notes filled her ears as she slid in to the hot water, feeling the bite of the heat as she stretched out. Leaning back against the back of the bath, she closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Trying to block out her worries about Killian and Neal, she focused solely on the music. There would be time enough to deal with whatever was going on once she had the whole story from Neal.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The elevator opened at Neal’s floor just a few moments after seven. As the door slid open, Emma was surprised to see him leaning casually against his front door, a wide grin on his face.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked him, brows furrowed in confusion.  She leaned in to kiss him in greeting. When she pulled back to meet his eyes, he was holding something between his fingers, eyes twinkling as they met hers.

“I have something I wanted to give you,” he announced, “And this seemed like the perfect place.” He took her hand and placed the object on her palm. It was a key on a silver key chain, the image of a swan etched in the metal. She turned it over in her hand, still unsure what it meant.

“It’s a key to the apartment.” Her confusion was clearly obvious. “I thought you might like to open the door with your own key tonight.”

Emma blinked as the reality of what he was saying began to dawn. She could feel her heart racing as Neal smiled warmly at her, waiting for her to say something in response. When she didn’t, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her softly on the tip of her nose.

“I want you to move in with me, babe. You’re here most of the time anyway, why not make it official?” Emma’s mind was whirling with this unexpected development – although she supposed it was a reasonable one. They had certainly been together long enough.

She breathed deeply, her feelings a mixture of fear and anticipation. Of course they should move in together – it was the logical next step.

By way of answer, she unlocked the door and opened it with a flourish.

“Welcome home.”

Laughing, Neal swept her up into his arms and carried her across the threshold. 

~~~~****~~~~~~

He had it all planned out, she discovered as they sat side beside each other on the couch, red wine in hand. His face was alight as he talked about sharing the rent costs and joint savings to take an amazing trip and all the practical details that living together would entail.

Always the manager, she thought, trying desperately not to focus on the lack of romance that seemed to be accompanying this invitation. Sure, the keychain thing was cute and he had literally swept her off her feet, but the discussion ever since had been decidedly mundane.

“So a perfect financial move?” she asked, her face more playful than she really felt.

Neal had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. He pulled her towards him, enveloping her in his arms before he spoke.

“Just a perfect move, babe. I want you here with me.” She snuggled in closer, satisfied this was what she wanted. They would have a home together – something Emma had missed her whole life.

They sat together in companionable silence for a while, sipping their wine and smiling at each other randomly. As her thoughts wandered, Emma realised she hadn’t asked him any more about Killian and their fight.

“Hey, you never told me about what happened the other night.”

Neal put his glass down on the coffee table and took Emma’s hand.

“Ems, Killian has a thing for you – you must realise that.”

“We’re friends, that’s all. He’s never…” her voice trailed off, thinking about those little moments she had put down to shared interests and the music they were both so passionate about.

“He wouldn’t – you know how he feels about ‘good form’. I have known Killian Jones a long time, babe, and he has always talked about this ‘code’ crap.” Emma was surprised by the hardness in Neal’s voice as he talked about his friend. She had never seen any animosity between them before – but Neal was definitely on edge now.

She squeezed his hand, encouraging him to go on.

“When I told him I was going to ask you to move in with me, he freaked. Said I needed to tell you the truth about…” He hung his head, seemingly unable to meet her gaze.

“You can tell me anything,” she reassured him. “We don’t need to have any secrets.”

He breathed in deeply, as if steeling himself to continue.

“Babe, before I met you I was running pretty wild. Girls, partying, you know, all the usual shit you do in an effort to piss off the father who clearly couldn’t care less. I got in some trouble with the cops – stole a car and needed Jones to bail me out. Nolan had to put up half the money and he’s been a superior bastard about it ever since.”

Neal paused as the explanation for David’s attitude to him became clear. Thinking he was finished, she went to tell him it was all right, but he looked like he needed to go on.

“And then IT happened.” He stopped, the words abandoning him momentarily.

“This girl I had been with turned up and said she was pregnant. I freaked out, accused her of stuff I’m not proud of now, but I was a stupid kid. Told her to leave me alone, that it wasn’t mine.”

Emma realised she had been holding her breath through this last admission. She hadn’t expected this – hadn’t bargained on something so serious.

“I get that you were a kid and you were scared – but what the hell? You have a child out there somewhere? I can’t…”

He was shaking his head, more to say, evidently.

“Ems, it was a false alarm. There was no baby.  And Killian made it abundantly clear what an asshole I was. Fucking Captain Honourable went after her, checked up on her and sat around as a reminder of everything I wasn’t.” Neal’s words were harsh and angry, almost spitting out the damning epithet.

Emma stood up and walked towards the kitchen, needing to put a bit of space between them. Time to process. Neal didn’t take the hint, following her and leaning against the counter as she refilled her glass.

“I think he thought you might be so devastated that you would run straight to him. I know he’s your friend and I hate to cause drama between you but he’s got it bad, Ems, and I am afraid he’ll do anything to convince you I’m bad news. He threatened to tell you about – well, everything, if I didn’t come clean.”

She could see the pain and worry in his face. This behaviour was not the man she knew now – everyone had mistakes in their past after all.

“And you have,” she stated, reaching to stroke his cheek. “And we will be ok.”

She reached her arms around him and pulled him in close. Resting her head against his, Emma contemplated what Neal had told her. It sounded so out of character for the Killian she knew to be making wild threats and accusations. But at the same time, she had to admit there had been signs that he felt something for her. If she had chosen to ignore them in the interests of maintaining a friendship that meant so much to her, then so be it.

She had to believe that living with Neal wasn’t going to mean the end of that. She would choose to see the best in both of them.

~~~~~~~~~

Killian had maintained phone silence since he had walked out last week. She had continued to message and call intermittently, trying to let him know nothing had changed, but it was not until she saw the man himself seated at the end of the bar that she saw her chance.

“Are you avoiding me, Jones?” she said as she climbed onto the adjoining stool.

“Not at all, Swan,” he replied quietly. “Just had a few things to sort out. As I do now, actually. Need to do an equipment check with the boys.”

Emma raised her eyebrows at him. “Right, well you had better go and do that then.” Killian began to walk away from her but he stopped as she added, “But I am actually quite perceptive and this…” Emma gestured wildly between them, “This is avoiding me.”

He smiled sadly at her.

“Fair play. Swan. You are correct. I had some qualms after my altercation with Cassidy and thought it best to keep my distance. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

Emma squeezed his arm. “I missed you. I didn’t get to tell you how I downloaded the rest of the INXS back catalogue.”

“I suppose you have notes?” he asked, a small glimpse of his usual spark flickering across his features. She laughed and nodded, leaning in to give him a quick hug. She felt him tense a little and pulled back. There was never going to be a good time to talk to him about Neal; she was just going to have to suck it up and do it.

“Actually, I have some other news,” she started, watching him closely for a response. She heard him let out a deep breath before replying.

“Aye, Swan, what would that be?”

“Neal asked me to move in with him and I said yes.”

He said nothing for a moment. Her green eyes searched his face, sure he would not let her down. She couldn’t believe that Neal’s take on the situation could be true. Emma knew their friendship was every bit as important to Killian as it was to her.

“Are you certain, Swan? Really sure it’s what you want?” He seemed to struggle over the words, but his face was determined. Emma’s heart sank. She had been so sure he would be happy for her, but it seemed Neal may have read the situation better.

“Of course I am certain. We have been together for 3 years. It’s what people do, Killian.”

“I’ve known Cassidy a long time, love, and there are things about him…”

Emma stood up, turning sharply to face him. She felt the anger rising up, hurt that he was not who she thought, that Neal had been right. She had needed him to be happy for her, to accept her choices and here he was, about to shoot down the man she loved for his own self-serving interest.

“Don’t call me love,” she hissed. “Don’t say another word. Neal told me everything and he said you would try this. I didn’t believe him, Killian, I thought I knew you better. I thought we were friends. But you are just – I don’t know – just…” Tears were welling in her eyes and she knew she had to get away. The last thing she wanted right now was for him to see her cry.

“We are friends, love- Emma. If he told you everything, then you must know you deserve more.” He reached out, taking her arm in his hand, drawing her towards him. She wrenched her arm from his grip, eyes blazing as she spoke.

“Why couldn’t you just be happy for me? Pretended, if you had to? Not ruin our friendship by not trusting I can run my own life and thinking you know better what I deserve. Stay the hell away from me, Jones. Just stay away.” She turned on her heels and stormed towards the exit. As she walked, she let the tears flow, shoulders shaking as the sobs racked her body. She heard him call out to her but she didn’t acknowledge his words. She had no idea where she was going, but she needed to put as much distance between herself and Killian Jones as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7: Dream baby dream, of all that’s come and going.**

_Her fingers raked through the hair at the nape of his neck as her lips sought his, hurried and urgent. He tangled his hand in her blonde curls, drawing her closer, deepening the kiss he had waited so long for. Her tongue swept across his lips, seeking an entrance he was never going to deny her. The softness of her body pressed against him served to make him more aware of the hardness of his own. She was finally in his arms, giving herself to him willingly, her kiss everything he had ever hoped and the promise of so much more…_

 

He was awake in a moment. Somehow the dream always cut him off at this point – even his subconscious was reminding him he would never be with her. Not now. Not ever.

 

Coward. He was a bloody coward not to have marched out and told her the minute he had found that arse with Zelena. And what had he done...turned off his phone and hidden away, scared to lose what tenuous hold he had on any kind of relationship with her.

 

Did he really think so little of her to believe she would run when she heard about his history with Milah? Even with the boy involved. Cassidy had achieved exactly what he had set out to do – cover his own arse and get in Killian’s head at the same time.

If he hadn’t been sleeping before, it was decidedly worse now. His guitar was the only thing that soothed him; his fingers on the strings in the familiar patterns, the chords reverberating around his otherwise silent apartment were keeping him calm. Keeping him from getting in his car, driving to Neal’s apartment and punching the fucker so hard he saw stars for a week.

 

So he played. And recorded. And edited. And recorded more.

 

And let his regret wash over him in waves.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _“Stay the hell away from me!”_ Those words were seared in his memory, the hurt in her voice something he would never forget. She said Cassidy had told her everything, but how could she still be with him if she knew? He found it very hard to believe that Emma would have forgiven his indiscretion so easily – let alone move in with him.

 

And what the hell had Cassidy said about him? Nothing about Milah or her boy, but clearly he had planted seeds of doubt in Emma’s mind about his intentions. That he would try to break up her relationship deliberately because of how he felt? The bastard was a piece of work, no question.

 

Bugger good form for a joke.

 

Gentle footsteps across his classroom made him look up from where his head had been resting in his hands. Mary Margaret put a takeout coffee cup in front of him and pulled one of the student’s chairs over to his desk. He checked his watch. One advantage to getting no sleep was being stupidly punctual for work. Still 15 minutes before the kids would be here, – so there was no real escape from the volley of questions he was expecting.

 

Instead she took a sip from her own coffee and eyed him cautiously. They sat in companionable silence, drinking their coffee and apparently lost in their own thoughts. Killian had no doubt Mary Margaret had a long list of things she was curious about, questions she had been holding in since the night he had walked out of the bar. But beyond letting her know he was OK, he had not been forthcoming with any information.

 

Knowing about Cassidy’s cheating was not something he really wanted to share – he felt strongly it was his job to tell Emma no matter what the consequence. If only she would listen to him.

 

“Thanks for the coffee,” he said quietly. Mary Margaret smiled, leaning forward just in case this was finally the end of the silence. He had to give it to her – she was always there when he needed her.

 

“Sorry I haven’t been particularly communicative lately,” he continued. “I had a few things to work out.”

 

“I guessed that,” she replied. “You know, I am told I am a very good listener, Killian. If that was the sort of thing you needed?”

 

He sighed deeply. It probably was exactly what he needed, if he was honest. Which didn’t make it any easier.

 

“Emma doesn’t want to see me anymore,” he stated simply. “Told me to stay away from her.”

 

Mary Margaret looked surprised. “She seemed very concerned about you that night at the bar. When you left so quickly. She certainly wasn’t upset with you then.”

 

“I didn’t talk to her until a few days after that. Cassidy asked her to move in with him and I…” he trailed off, unsure how much he wanted to give away. Mary Margaret leaned over and put her hand on his arm in a gesture of sympathy.

 

“Oh, Killian. You told her you loved her? And she got scared. Of course she did, honey, she would be so confused.” She stopped, as Killian shook his head. “No? You didn’t tell her?”

 

“It had nothing to do with how I feel about her,” he said, trying to ignore how easily Mary Margaret had used the word ‘love’ when he had never said it aloud to anyone else himself. He knew his friends realised he had feelings for Emma - they had skirted the topic many a time - but this flat out statement of what those feelings were was disconcerting. Particularly as Cassidy had said exactly the same thing.

 

“Well, what happened then? I can’t imagine Emma walking away from your friendship for nothing.”

 

“I caught Cassidy with Zelena that night – the one when I walked out. I wanted to go straight to Emma to tell her, I really did, but he threatened to tell her everything about my past. About Milah and the boy and how much that would hurt her and I lost my nerve.” He hung his head, the pain of his cowardice more than he wanted to think about.

 

Her face was sympathetic, and she never loosened the grip she had on his arm. She knew his history, had been there when his relationship with Milah had fallen apart, taking him with it. She’d never judged him then, through the rum-soaked haze and the bad decisions and the one night stands that followed. She and David had never wavered then and he regretted not letting them in now, when things seemed to be falling apart again.

 

“When she told me she was moving in with him, I asked her if she was sure and she was furious. I have no bloody idea exactly what he told her, but she said he had told her everything and that Cassidy had suspected I would try to cause trouble between them. And she was very clear about not wanting to see me anymore.” He let out a deep breath, shoulders slumping as the reality hit him yet again.

 

“Killian, I don’t know Emma as well as you, but I find it very hard to believe she knows he was with Zelena and she reacted like this.”

 

He shrugged, realising if he said any more he stood the risk of being far from ready to face the enthusiastic eight year olds that were only – he checked his watch again – 3 minutes from barrelling in the door. Mary Margaret seemed to realise the same thing. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek.

 

“You’ll come to dinner tonight. We’ll talk more.”

 

It wasn’t a request. He could do nothing but nod his acquiescence as she left to greet her own students.

 

When the first of the children appeared at his door, he was softly strumming his guitar, the chords that had kept him company each night filling the space where he would once have played the favoured introduction song. Despite their requests, _You are my Sunshine_ would not be getting any airplay today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(ONE MONTH LATER)

 

The queue at the coffee house was long and tiresome. It had been some time since he had slept more than three or four hours at a stretch and in his exhausted state, Killian held an unreasonable grudge against what he thought of as the poncy coffee drinkers with their soy half strength bloody nonsense. Too many damned choices was the problem.

 

Of course, he had happily ordered a pumpkin spiced latte with extra foam when he and Emma had sat here discussing set lists and iTunes downloads only a few weeks ago.

 

_“Seriously, Swan, what nonsense is this? You can’t expect me to take anything you say seriously when you are drinking something Harry Potter would buy on the Hogwarts Express.”_

 

_She grinned at the reference. “But you’ll take my book recommendations, obviously,” she had said with a chuckle, jostling him and spilling his sensible skim latte on the table._

 

_“Yes, well, I found it quite an enjoyable read,” he countered. “Couldn’t have you thinking I was an illiterate musician.”_

 

_“Hardly,” Emma replied. “I’ve seen you with numerous album liner notes and even the odd Rolling Stone magazine. Clearly you are a great reader.” It had been his turn to laugh, especially as he pulled a tattered magazine out of his backpack as proof._

 

_“Research, love,” he had said with a wink. “You do it your way, I do it mine.”_

 

_She pulled out her iPod and notebook, her own preferred research tools, and they had started a lively debate on the merits of Crowded House…_

 

The realisation that he had _The Order of the Phoenix_ in that same backpack today was an unwelcome one. Taking the dog eared paperback out, he thumbed through it absentmindedly, lost in thoughts of the way she challenged him, matched him one liner for one liner – and how much he missed it. Her name was written on the flyleaf – she had lent him her copy late one night when he couldn’t wait to keep reading – and he ran his finger gently over it.

 

“Killian?”

 

The soft voice roused him from his thoughts. Looking up from the book, he found Elsa smiling shyly at him, coffee in hand.

 

“It’s quite busy here today,” she said. “Would you mind if I shared the table with you?”

He stood quickly, gesturing to the spare seat.

 

“Of course, Elsa, you’re very welcome. Lovely to see you again.” As she sat, he guided her chair in carefully, before sitting back down himself. The manners were deeply ingrained, he thought, no matter how distracted he may be.

 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their coffee and smiling awkwardly at each other when their eyes met. The level of discomfort obviously overtook them simultaneously as they both spoke at the same time.

 

“I wanted to…”

 

“I was wondering…”

 

They laughed lightly, dispersing some of the tension. Killian gestured for her to go ahead.

 

“I was wondering if you were OK, actually,” she asked. “You left so suddenly that night and I have been thinking about you since.”

 

“I’m fine, although I wanted to apologise to you for my poor form that evening. It was rude of me to leave so abruptly.”

 

“Don’t apologise, please,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “Emma told me you had a fight with Neal?” Killian inhaled sharply, realising Elsa may have some answers that Emma herself would certainly not share.

 

“Aye,” he said simply, loathe to add more. She was quick to read his need to say nothing else, and went back to her coffee in companionable silence.

 

He did the same.

 

For a while.

 

“How is she?” he asked quietly, scratching that place behind his ear that seemed to draw him when he was unsure. The month since she had walked away had seemed so much longer, and he was unable to resist the opportunity to know anything about her, even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

 

Elsa’s expression shifted subtly, and she exhaled that little bit longer than strictly necessary.

“She’s doing fine. Moved in with Neal, they seem happy. It was the logical step, I guess.” Something in her voice made him think there was more.

 

“You don’t sound completely convinced, love?” It wasn’t hope he felt, he told himself. Concern for Emma, that was all.

 

“I like Neal and he seems to make Emma happy but…” she trailed off, leaving him pondering the ‘seems’ in that statement.

 

“She told you we had argued?” he asked.

 

Elsa nodded. “She was scared, Killian – she needed you to be happy for her so she could be happy for herself. Instead she felt like you were going to try to change things with her and Neal and she didn’t know what else to do.”

 

“She needed to know the truth about Cassidy,” he stated firmly.

 

“He told her about the things he’d done – partying and getting in trouble with the police and even about what happened with _her_. She put it in the past. You must have too – you are still friends with him now.”

 

Not bloody likely, he thought. He still wanted to punch the bastard. He was mid-violent fantasy, when something Elsa had said jumped to his attention.

 

“Hold up, love, you said he told Emma what happened with _her_. What did he say happened?” A memory of a teenaged girl, face streaked with tears, pouring out her heart to him in a university common room flashed across his memory, as clear as the day it had happened.

 

“About the baby – well the scare, I guess and how he had treated the girl so badly.” She looked at Killian intently, clearly trying to make sense of the obvious hatred that become etched on his features.  

 

Killian sucked in a lungful of air, an attempt to stop the litany of curses that was building up inside him from spewing forth across the coffee house. If he thought he was a fool before, the situation was now a million times worse. She didn’t know, she hadn’t accepted second best. And he had let her make a huge mistake.

 

“Fuck,” he hissed. “She doesn’t fucking know.” Elsa looked quizzically at him, and reached out again to touch his arm.

 

“What doesn’t she know? Killian, is Emma OK? Is there something worse? Is that why I have felt so worried?” Just like talking to her sister, Killian thought, an irrational smile almost coming to his lips. Her fingers tightened on his arm, urging him to continue.

 

“I’ve been a fool, Elsa. He’s a clever bastard, I’ll give him that. He knew just what to say to me and just how to leave out the most important information for Emma.”

 

“Killian, will you please tell me what is going on?” Elsa pleaded.

 

“He told her nothing, love. Not what is important, anyway. But I think it needs to come from me. Can you help me get in contact with her? Tell her she needs to speak to me? Please?”

 

She eyed him thoughtfully. Her next question was gentle but probing. And he knew he would struggle to get away with denying it.

 

“How long _have_ you been in love with her?”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many many thanks to Brooke-to-broch and amagicalship for their edits, suggestions and general hand holding through what turned out to be a bit of a rollercoaster ride. The song that Killian sings in this chapter is Man on A Wire by The Script and if you would like to share in the full author experience on this chapter, feel free to put it on repeat for several hours as you sit and bash at a keyboard.
> 
> Colourful language lies ahead...

**Chapter 8: We all have wings, but some of us don't know why**

_Emma’s phone had been vibrating constantly since she had gone into the bathroom. He could hear her starting the water running – it would be a while before she was back to stop it. The noise was driving him insane. He had enough to think about without the freaking buzzing in his head as well. Picking up the phone, he swiped the screen and entered Emma’s passcode. (She really needed to beef up the security level.)_ 10 missed calls. _No wonder the fucking thing wouldn’t shut up. Who the hell…?_

_Fucking Jones._

_Apparently Emma telling him to fuck off hadn’t been enough to have a permanent effect. What was it? Like, six weeks? He had always been a persistent bastard. “Good form” must have got the better of him. Well, Captain Freaking Awesome wasn’t going to screw everything up now – he had Emma, they were happy, he had a plan and the delicate balance was not going to be put off by some would-be knight in shining armour._

_He selected the calls and hit the trash can icon._

 ______________________________________

_"Stay the hell away from me, Jones!"_ The words echoed in her head and jolted her awake. As they had far too many times recently.

She missed him. She couldn't count the number of times her finger had gone to hit send on a message about a new song or a funny story before she remembered she couldn't. That she wasn't supposed to want to.

But she did. Killian’s absence hurt more than she imagined. More than it probably should.

He had taken her words seriously. Six weeks and he had not made contact since that night. She had been so afraid to hear what he had to say - or worse, to hear how he felt - that she had shut him down and run away.

Why it was so frightening was something she did not want to consider. And so far she had had plenty of wide awake moments late at night when her brain wanted to do nothing else.

Neal. She reached out an arm to him, a concrete reminder of her choice but found his side of the bed cool and empty. Listening, she heard a string of profanity from the living room. What was he doing up at - she focused her eyes on the alarm clock briefly - 2 a.m.? She was awake now, so she reached for her robe and went to investigate.

"Come on, you bastards. Score!" Neal’s face was lit up by his laptop screen, watching so intently he didn't notice Emma entering the room.

"Hey. What are you doing out here?"

He looked up at the sound of her voice, closing the lid of his laptop quickly. “Sorry, babe, did I wake you?”

She shook her head. He was obviously uncomfortable, unable to make eye contact with her.

“Porn?” she said with a grin. He laughed uneasily.

“Nah, just some emails and some other work stuff. No biggie. Go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” His eyes darted to his phone, still distracted despite putting his computer aside.

Emma studied him closely. The dishevelled hair that looked as if he had been raking his fingers through it hinted at something worrying him; dark circles under his eyes suggested this was not the first time he had been here awake while she slept. "Come to bed. You look exhausted."

"I'll be there in a minute." Emma was taken aback by the harsh tone of his voice. He obviously saw the surprise on her face and his expression softened.

"Sorry babe. I’m just tired. Go in to bed. I’ll be in soon." He went to open his laptop again, poking impatiently at the keys until the screen flashed back to life. Emma shook her head and turned to go. She couldn't help him if he wouldn't help himself.

"Oh, hey Ems?" She looked back over her shoulder at him, his face once again bathed in the blue light of his computer. "Did you transfer the cash for the rent and the vacation fund this week?"

Really? 2 a.m. was the time for sorting out the bills? She nodded quickly and sighed.

"It'll wait, Neal. Really. Please come to bed.”

He grunted non-committedly without shifting his focus from the screen in front of him.

Somehow, this whole living together thing was not what she had imagined.

_____________________________________

Despite everything, Neal seemed keen for her to come along to gigs.

"Babe, come with me tonight. Everyone wants to see you. I won’t let him anywhere near you."

He nearly spat out the last part.

"I don't think so. I have a pile of paperwork to finish." A pile she may or may not have been saving deliberately to avoid this very conversation.

"It can wait, Ems." Before she could answer, his message tone sounded and he turned his attention to his phone. He dashed off a reply and looked up at her with a strange smile.

"But if you really can't, I understand." He kissed her cheek and made to leave.

What was with the sudden change of heart? As he walked towards the door, Emma stared after him, confused. She hadn't expected to see less of Neal once she moved in, but it seemed as though meetings and gigs and his various other responsibilities kept him away from home a lot.

Not to mention the sleepless nights.

The thought crossed her mind that he was forcing her hand...giving her no choice but to get back to being by his side at gigs. And perhaps reinforcing to Killian just who she was in a relationship with.

There was no doubt that their argument at the bar had brought up some old issues for Neal. He harboured a resentment towards Killian that she could not believe he had kept hidden for so long. He was being pragmatic, she guessed, as Killian was a major part of the success of the band and the band was his livelihood.

Unlike Killian and the others, Neal's management business - along with the residuals from a father who mistook money for a relationship - was his only source of income. And if the rounds of drinks and the renowned generosity were anything to go by, it was a successful venture.

As he closed the door behind him, she sunk back on the couch. Doubt was circling in her mind – had been for days if she was being honest. The man she was living with seemed so different from the man she had fallen in love with. She had given up her apartment and her independence to make a home with Neal. It was the first home she had shared with anyone for a very long time. And there was definitely something off. He hadn’t lied – she would know if he had – but she was preoccupied with a gut feeling that he was holding something back - something big.

His sudden change of heart tonight, for example. Was it her imagination or had he been doing that a lot lately? Perhaps she would surprise him after all.

 ________________________________________________________________

Leroy was at the door when she arrived.

“So you decided to make an appearance? Not good enough for you or something?” The gruff tone belied the grin that came across his face as she squeezed his arm by way of greeting.

“It’s good to see you too, Leroy.” She knew the doorman was well aware of why she had been absent but she appreciated his not drawing attention to it.

“Shall I let Neal know you’re here?” Leroy had his radio at the ready, but she held up her hand to stop him.

“No, I’ll surprise him.” She stood at the door, breathing deeply, still unsure of whether this was actually a good idea. Leroy seemed to sense her hesitation and indicated towards his radio again. She shook her head as the door opened and a burst of music accompanied the patrons who were exiting.

God, she had missed hearing him sing.

It was only a brief moment but the richness and sincerity of his voice was so clear it wrapped around her heart and drew her in. All she knew was that she needed to be in there to hear one more song.

Leroy held her arm for just a moment. “He missed you, you know.”

She looked at him, confused. “He saw me at home a few hours ago.”

The doorman nudged her gently on the shoulder. “I don’t mean him.”

She leaned in and kissed him on his bearded cheek. “I miss him too.”

Emma pushed open the door and followed the sound of Killian’s voice. She stayed at the back of the room, her thoughts of finding Neal pushed firmly aside as she let the sound of his voice swirl through her mind. It was a track she had recommended to him on one of their many “coffee and set list” meetings. The memory of him arguing his case, knowing she would win out in the end anyway brought a smile to her face.

And rightly so, she thought, the song was perfect.

Killian’s softly accented voice broke through her recollections as the crowd cheered the end of the song.

“Thanks, thanks. Got a new song for you tonight, not our usual old school stuff. This is for a friend who I miss very much.”

Emma’s breath caught as she heard the opening bars of a song she had heard and loved on the radio just recently. A song she had immediately gone to send him a message about before realising that wasn’t something she did any more.

_And he had discovered it too – and was singing it for her._

_No I can't look down, I'm tryin to fight the feeling_

_I will fall to the ground if I ever see you, cos_

_I feel like I'm walking a tightrope,_

_My heart is in my throat, I'm counting on high hopes_

_To get me over you._

Her eyes were brimming with tears at the pain she could hear in his voice. She gripped the railing in front of her, steadying herself from emotions that she had not expected when she decided coming here was a good idea.

There was an unnatural stillness in the bar as he sang, his fingers moving effortlessly over his guitar, eyes moving slowly across the people who were all but transfixed on him in that moment. The emotion, the rawness of it was clear to every one of them, Emma realised, as she watched them watching him.

Including Neal. Her boyfriend was near the bar with Zelena, a bar stool clearly abandoned as he had stood to take in the performance. The bar manager had a hand on his shoulder, as if holding him back, but Neal’s eyes were firmly fixed on Killian. His face was unreadable, and Emma watched as his gaze began to shift towards the back of the room - towards her. Her eyes met Neal’s for a brief moment, before she looked back at what had changed his focus.

Killian was looking directly at her, his expression one of resignation. As she met his eyes, a bolt of… _something_ coursed through her, her stomach clenching at the feeling she could see in their depths. She had heard the words he was singing, listened to their meaning. He was trying to move on. But nothing in the way he looked at her now convinced her he wanted that. And nothing in the way she couldn’t take her eyes off him felt like she wanted that either. He looked away and Emma let out the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

The sound of a raised voice from the bar drew her attention away. She could not make out the words but Zelena had Neal by the arm and anger was etched on her face. He replied quickly, not pulling away but clearly frustrated.

Emma watched, every fibre of her being fighting to ignore what her experience of observing people seemed to be screaming at her. Neal looked towards her, realising she had seen the altercation and raised a hand, gesturing for her to stay where she was. With a final word to Zelena, he moved quickly towards her.

She tensed as he leaned in to kiss her, but before making contact he stood back, eyebrows knitted.

“I thought you couldn’t make it,” he began. “What a surprise, babe.”

I bet, she thought. Her lips remained resolutely shut.

“I can’t believe that bastard tried singing to you, after you told him you didn’t want anything to do with him. He just won’t quit.”

Emma nodded. No point in disagreeing, or reminding Neal it was a break up song, about getting over someone, moving on.

Because those were not things she wanted to think about at this moment.

He continued, clearly rattled by her lack of interaction. “Yeah, Zelena was pissed, she thought I was going to start a fight or something, wreck the place. Did you see her holding me back?”

She nodded again.  An explanation for what she had seen, plausible perhaps, a woman protecting her business from her biggest draw card imploding on itself.

She had to decide if it was enough.

“Let’s get out of here, babe. The boys can sort themselves out.” With a sigh, she let him put an arm around her and lead her towards the door. The confusion swimming in her brain meant now was not the time for big decisions. But the time would come, of that she was sure.

His phone rang.

Of course.

“Hold on Ems, I’ll just take this real quick.” He stepped away, his voice hard edged as he replied to whoever was on the other end of the line. She could hear snippets of the conversation despite his best efforts.

“Yeah, I’ll have it.”

“I just need a couple of days…”

“Tuesday, OK?”

He stabbed at the end button and slid the phone away in his pocket. When he turned back to her, his face was composed and calm, the opposite of the edge of panic she had heard in his voice on the phone.

“What was that about?” Tell me the truth, she begged internally, don’t let me down, please.

“Just sorting out some paperwork for the boys, babe. No big deal. Let’s go.” Her face fell, the disappointment too much to bear.

 ___________________________________________________________

Stakeout was her least favourite part of her job at the best of times. Long hours cramped in her car, bad coffee, stale donuts. And far too much time to think.

And tonight she had had far too much to think about.

There were a couple of missed calls on her phone from Killian. Voicemails she had avoided listening to. Not because she didn’t want to - she wanted to talk to him desperately, to piece together the threads of what the hell was going on in her life, but after hearing the heartache in his voice when he sang she knew she needed to have some answers before she did.

It wouldn’t be fair to him otherwise.

Neal wasn’t making it any easier. He knew the scene with Zelena had her doubting and he had been the picture of the attentive boyfriend most of the time. Filling their time together with activities and sweet thoughtful gestures and all the other things he had never really made time for before.

Until he thought she wasn’t looking. There were texts and voicemails, sudden business meetings. And as much as her heart was breaking at the thought of the decision she was going to have to make, Emma knew it was time to confront him.

She should have seen it coming. She was abandoned on the side of the road, her own parents didn’t want her. No family had chosen her. The handful of men she had considered more than a one night stand with had let her down. She had let them into her heart and they had crushed it, over and over again. Why should Neal be any different?

She would never be that girl again, the one who ignored all the signs until it was too late. It was time to speak up, no matter how much he was avoiding it.

Because that was what he had been doing. Of that she had no doubt.

A bitch of a day was a generous description, she thought as she unlocked the door to the lobby. She had missed the skip she had spent the day staking out, her head ached from stress and now she faced the nightmare of making sense of the disaster that her relationship seemed to be.

Passing the mailbox, she noticed an envelope half out of the slot. Neal had said repeatedly he would organise her a mailbox key but he never had. She wouldn’t dwell on the significance of that fact. She extracted the crisp white rectangle from the front of the mailbox, addressed to Neal, from the building management. She tucked it into her tote as she made her way to the elevator.

The apartment was in unexpected darkness as she unlocked the door. He had promised he would be home tonight, that the band could perform without him for one night.

“Neal?” she called out, tossing her tote on a chair and making her way to their room. Perhaps he was asleep. “Neal, are you home?”

There was no answer and no light appeared as she reached the hall. Stepping into their bedroom, she switched on the light and stopped in her tracks. Thoughts of robbery or invasions crossed her mind for a fleeting second until she processed what she was seeing.

“What the hell?” Her voice echoed around the empty apartment.

Neal’s half of the closet stood empty, random shirts and odd socks dotted around the carpeted floor, but the bulk of his clothing was gone. The suitcase that had stood in the corner of the room was missing. Her head was spinning, blood rushing in her ears until she felt faint. She sat down hard on the bed before her legs gave way, placing her hands behind her to steady herself. Her fingers landed on something unexpected. It was another stark white envelope with her name scrawled across it in all too familiar writing.

Emma Swan knew a skip when she saw it. Her boyfriend, who told her he loved her, had definitely skipped. On her, and on who knew what else.

Breathing was becoming difficult. She gripped the letter tightly in her hands, as if she could find out its contents through sheer force of will.

What could it say at this point that could make it worse? He was gone, she was a fool. Sliding one finger along the barely sealed edge of the envelope, she extracted the piece of paper which had obviously been torn from the pad in the kitchen.

She tried to decipher Neal’s scratchy handwriting.

_Ems_

_I am in a bit of trouble. I owe some people some money. A lot of money._

_I let the bills slide and I think we will lose the apartment._

_I’ve got to get out of town for a while, let it all cool down._

_There is more you need to know, but I think you already suspect._

_Killian. Talk to him._

_I’m sorry babe. Really._

Bastard. Fucking cowardly bastard. He couldn’t even be honest with her in a fucking note _. He thought she already suspected?_ That he was having an affair? Then yeah - she suspected. Screwing up the notepaper in the tightest ball she could, she tossed it across the room, watching it bounce off the dresser and on to the carpet. Every inch of her felt tightly coiled, the anger burning through her body. 

They might lose the apartment? A sudden realisation hit her and she ran to her tote, abandoned in the living room. Withdrawing the envelope, she opened it hastily, unfolding the official looking paper and skimming the first paragraph.

_Continued non-payment…rent in arrears…eviction…immediately vacate the premises._

This was not at all what she had imagined. She had felt she could be losing him, but her home? Her security? It was all too much, she had to get out of here. Tote, keys, phone and she was gone.

Flinging open the door, she launched herself into the hallway, letter in hand. The door closed hard behind her, the noise enough to jolt her from the blind rage that had overcome her inside. In its place was a sudden all-encompassing sadness that had been fighting for release, leaving her racked with sobs. She leaned back against the door, tears flowing down her cheeks, shoulders heaving. Unable to bear her own weight any longer, her knees buckled and she slid down to the floor. Her knees pulled in to her chest, the letter abandoned beside her, she wrapped her arms around herself, dropped her head to her knees and cried like she never had before.

The ding of the elevator made her lift her head. An illogical bubble of hope sat in her chest - the thought that the doors could slide open and she would see him standing there. She wanted to see him more than she had ever wanted anything. But she knew better. She was the girl people left behind, had never been the one people put first. Who was she kidding?

Her head sunk back to her hands as the door opened.

“I hoped I would find you here.” There was a pause and she could hear the relief in his voice. She lifted her eyes to meet the face of the one person she had most wanted and least expected to see.

“Swan.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts, random strings of letters, actual sentences or hopes for the future would be gratefully accepted at this point.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a Colin O'Donoghue INXS reference (thank you Ever After Con) to get things moving. To everyone who has followed, favourited or commented on NTUA I send a sincere thank you. It is quite a kick to know that people are enjoying the workings of my brain.

 

**Chapter 9: I'll be your shoulder, you can tell me all**

"Dammit, Swan, answer me." Not for the first time, his phone hit the couch hard, lucky to avoid bouncing off the relative softness of the cushion and hitting the floor. Since his conversation with Elsa, Killian had made numerous calls to that all too familiar number with no success. He had stopped leaving messages and toyed with the idea of lurking outside her (their?) building in the hope of catching her alone.

But she seemed determined to keep him at a distance.

And the possibility of running into Cassidy instead seemed like an assault charge waiting to happen.

He leaned back on the couch, stretching his legs out and reaching for his iPad. The quiet in his apartment was too much to handle; the soundtrack of his misery was readily available on the device and somehow the songs that made him think of her were strangely comforting. That is, until he heard the opening bars of  _Never Tear Us Apart_  and realised misery might not be all it was cracked up to be.

_Nope_ , he thought,  _not going there_.

The playlist labelled just with a question mark seemed a better option. Potential new tracks were another minefield but at least he had scanned ahead and found that not every song could be linked to her.

Will had sent him a few links and, as the first one started, he liked the sound – it would fit their style despite not being an older track. The lyric began and he listened intently. Connection was so important for him when performing – he needed to identify with the words when they weren't his own. As the first verse ended, he realised he was holding his breath waiting for what came next. The words may not have been written by him, but they bloody could be for him.

He didn't need a second listen to send a reply to Will.  _This one, mate. This is it._

* * *

The crowd milling around the door of the bar was unusual. Not patrons, as might be expected, but staff and his bandmates, all in intense conversations with confused expressions. Killian had taken to arriving at the last minute possible - minimising the chance of running into Neal seemed like a good plan - and rarely encountered anyone except for Leroy on the door, so the crowd was a surprise. He approached Will and Victor, both with their phones in hand, fingers darting across the screens.

Will spotted him first. "There ya are, mate. We've been tryin' to reach ya."

"What's going on?"

The drummer shrugged his shoulders. "No clue. We got 'ere and it's all locked up. No sign of Zelena anywhere."

Victor looked up from his phone. "Can't get hold of Neal either. I think some of the bar staff are trying to call Zelena at home."

Killian had a strong suspicion that finding Zelena at home was highly unlikely if Neal was missing as well. The thought weighed heavily on his mind. It had been impossible to miss the tension between the two of them when Emma had appeared at the gig only days ago, but clearly nothing had changed.

That night had seemed like the window of opportunity he had been waiting for. He had never expected to find himself looking at her while he sang  _Man on a Wire._  As, apparently, his feelings were clear to everyone around him, he had a hunch that the boys and even Cassidy might pick up on the significance of the song. But when he realised she was there, her blonde hair and her…Emma-ness drawing his attention as nothing else could, his heart skipped a beat. The fact she had come back after so many weeks gave him a moment of hope that he would at least get his chance to talk to her, to try to set things right. But before he had finished the set, she was gone. And he still hadn't been able to contact her.

The booming voice of the doorman interrupted his moment of regret.

"Listen up, everyone, gather round." The crowd formed some semblance of a group as the small man clambered up onto a nearby step so as to be seen over their heads.

Leroy looked grim as he addressed them all. "Folks, we won't be opening tonight. There is a bit of a," here he hesitated as if searching for the right words, "family crisis with Zelena and no way to get things ready in time for tonight." Mutters of disapproval ran through the staff, thoughts of lost tips and overtime clearly top of mind.

"Settle down," Leroy continued gruffly."You'll all get paid for tonight. Just go home and we'll be back to normal tomorrow." The assembled staff started to shuffle off, while the band huddled around preparing to pack up equipment and contact Neal.

"Can you try Emma, mate?" Will asked. "She'll know where he is."

_No she bloody won't_ , he thought. He was about to decline when he heard his name being called.

"Jones." Leroy came towards him, his face even more forbidding than it had been previously. "A word, if I could?"

The doorman held his arm and pulled him aside from the group. "Have you spoken to Emma?"

Killian shook his head, inhaling deeply then letting the breath out slowly through his mouth as he did.

"This  _family crisis_  - bullshit for this lot. I called her husband and she has packed up and gone. Left him. Ran off with some guy she met here apparently." He paused, obviously letting Killian come to the same conclusion that he already had. "Which had me thinking about who that might have been…"

"Asshole." His fists formed involuntarily as he spat out the word. "I've got to find Emma. Thanks for the heads up."

He was headed down the street towards his car before Leroy could respond.

* * *

He seriously considered the stairs. Standing at the elevator in her building, pressing the button aggressively seemed to be getting him nowhere - it certainly hadn't when he stood outside hoping she would buzz him in. There had been no response but it had not been too difficult to follow a resident quietly through the heavy front doors. The mechanical clunk of the elevator descending was music to his ears and he was in the doors and pressing the number for her floor more quickly than he had ever moved before.

He held on to the slim possibility that she wasn't home yet and was still unaware of how badly he had let her down. At least he could save her the shock of discovering Cassidy gone without a warning. But even if she was here, he hoped the connection he had felt with her at that last gig was enough for her to forgive him.

Watching the floor numbers tick over was possibly the most frustrating experience of his life. As he neared her floor, he was at the doors, waiting for them to slide open.

She was slumped in the hallway, head in her hands, her belongings discarded beside her. He had considered his words, what he could possibly say to her in this moment but seeing her so obviously distressed was enough to bring what was truest to the surface. His voice was quiet, breathy, in the face of her heartache.

"I hoped I would find you here."

She looked up slowly, her green eyes meeting his, the expression on her face one of such hurt and despair that Killian felt it like a stab through his own heart. As he stepped towards her, the glimmer of relief crossed her face, and he dared for a moment to think she might be pleased to see him.

"Swan."

She blinked several times and drew a hand across her eyes, wiping away the tears he could see glistening there. He heard her inhale deeply before she spoke.

"God, Killian, I hoped it would be you."

His breath caught in his throat as he realised the weight of her words. She wanted him here with her when she was at her lowest - at least until she found out what he hadn't told her.

"What are you doing out in the hall, Swan?" he asked.

She held out an official looking piece of paper to him from her place on the floor. He took it and ran his eyes over the type.

_Shit._

It was so much worse than he had suspected. Without a word he sat down next to her on the floor, his back against the wall, his body mirroring hers.

"He's gone," she stated simply. Killian nodded slowly, his usual gift for finding the right words abandoning him in this moment.

She continued quietly, "He left me a note - a fucking note, Killian - and even then he couldn't spell it out." A hard sob interrupted her words and sent a shudder through her body. It was killing him to see her like this. To see the strong, determined Emma Swan hurt by an arse like Cassidy, knowing that perhaps he could have softened the blow.

"He told me I should talk to you." Emma turned sharply to face him and Killian sucked in a breath hard. "I couldn't work out why until I realised you knew about Zelena."

"Swan, I am…" he interrupted, determined to finally be honest with her about what had happened but before he could say another word she held a finger to his lips.

"You knew," she paused and Killian could feel the panic rising as he prepared for her to send him away again. "You knew and you tried to tell me and I didn't give you the chance. I am so sorry, Killian."

He reached out and closed his fingers around hers, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the softness of the back of her hand. He felt her relax a little at his touch.

"Love, I am the one who should be apologising. I should have been man enough to tell you the minute I caught them together. But whatever else Cassidy is - and I have a few choice words I can think of - he is a manipulator of the highest order." She nodded slightly, her eyes fixed on the spot where their hands were joined.

Fearing she was uncomfortable, he went to draw his hand away but she shook her head.

"It was the night you ran out after the gig, the one when I introduced you to Elsa, wasn't it?" It was Killian's turn to nod in agreement. He had been so angry that night he hadn't been able to think rationally and here she was paying the price. And yet, by some miracle, she still seemed to want him near her.

"They were in her office when I went to find him. He chased after me and made all sorts of excuses but he knew I was going to tell you what I had seen - that you deserved to know the truth - and he turned on me. Threatened to turn you against me…"

She interrupted him with a resigned sigh. "Well, he made that work, apparently."

Killian squeezed her fingers. "Indeed, but I am hoping it is not a permanent state of affairs." Emma's lips formed the smallest of smiles and she rested her head lightly on his shoulder. His heart was racing at her closeness, the overpowering feeling of her stirring his emotions and reactivating the deep feelings he had fought against for so long - the feelings he would continue to suppress so he could be the friend she needed.

He had no idea how long they sat side by side in the quiet hallway, but he felt Emma's body begin to relax, the shudder of sobs subsiding as she began to breathe more deeply and evenly. Their ability to share a companionable silence was something he had always cherished and he was overwhelmed to think he might have it back when he had been so sure it was lost forever.

The ache in his lower back brought him back to reality, his need to move outweighing his desire to ponder all the questions in his mind. Time spent in quiet had raised several and he picked up the letter she had handed him earlier. Nothing he knew of the story explained this turn of events and he wondered how much Emma herself understood.

As he began to read it through again, Emma took it from his hands and stared at the typeface.

"Asshole," she hissed and Killian could not help but let out a snort of cynical laughter.

"Those were my words exactly, love, when I found out he was gone. But him leaving doesn't explain this letter."

Emma stretched her back against the door. Clearly he was not the only one with a body protesting a long time in a single position. She looked drained and physically exhausted and he couldn't in good conscience let her sit there in the chill of the hall any longer.

"Swan, I suspect we have much more to discuss, but both of us are too advanced in years to sit in a draft and do it for much longer."

"Speak for yourself, old man," she quipped quietly, and he smiled at his words having their desired effect. Any small moment of happiness was a significant achievement at this point.

"Shall we venture inside and I will make you a cup of tea? We can talk further in comfort."

Her head shake and the look of panic in her eyes were a definitive answer,

"I can't go in there, Killian. Not yet."

He began a mental scan of the neighbourhood for an alternative - a coffee house, a bar, anything. He checked his watch and found it was almost 10, possibly limiting their options, but he could remember several potential venues so he hauled himself to his feet and held out his hands to her.

"Then we shall find an alternative location, Swan. Perhaps with rum?"

He was rewarded again with the ghost of a smile that still sent a flush of warmth down his spine. Small steps, he knew, but seeing her lose the hurt in her expression even for just a moment felt important.

"Is that your solution to everything?" she asked as she took his hands and allowed him to pull her to her feet. The momentum brought her close to him and he fought an urge to put his arms around her and draw her close. Instead, he brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheek, catching a stray tear that remained there.

"It never hurts, Swan, it never hurts."

* * *

They found a tiny, dimly lit bar around the corner from her building and sat side by side in a corner booth, each nursing a glass of rum. It was, in fact, Emma's second, the first having been drained with a skill that Killian found both concerning and strangely attractive.

"Going for pirate-level rum drinking, love?" he had asked.

"I think I was due," was her response as she indicated to the barman she would have another.

Killian waited, curious as to who would resume the conversation. He swirled his glass as he watched her, unable to comprehend the idiocy of a man who had had everything and thrown it away. Who had been happy to leave her broken while he chased - what? Killian had known Neal a long time and everything he knew about the man said he had genuinely cared for Emma, despite his inability to keep it in his pants.

As if reading his mind, Emma took a deep breath and a long sip of her drink and began to speak.

"Remember I said there was a note?" Killian nodded as she continued. "He said he owed some people a lot of money and he had to get out of town for a while. And that there was more and he thought I suspected and I should talk to you."

He waited, expecting an elaboration on this fairly cryptic explanation. But her silence seemed to indicate none was to be forthcoming.

"And…" he prompted, hoping he was wrong, that Cassidy could not be that much of an arse.

"And nothing. That's what he left me with." Her voice no longer sounded tired, but was tinged with a vehemence he had never heard before. "That's love, right there, Killian. Years together,  _living together_  for fuck's sake and he leaves me with a couple of lines  _and_  nowhere to live." She downed the rest of her rum in one go and caught the eye of the barman again.

He reached out to cover her hand with his, but she drew it away quickly. "That's not love, Emma. That is stupidity of the highest order, no question, but it's not love."

As her drink arrived, her shoulders slumped again. "No, stupidity is that I saw the signs and I tried to ignore them. I hoped so hard I was wrong, that he was different. But there were so many things that weren't right. And then I saw them that night…" her voice trailed off and she wiped away a tear that had formed in the corner of her eye. Before she crumbled again, Killian decided on a change of focus.

"And the money? The eviction notice? I may have known he was messing around with Zelena but that - I had no idea about that."

She shook her head and sighed deeply. "I haven't even started to think about the details of that beyond having nowhere to go. And honestly, I don't want to right now." She put her glass to her lips and drained it without a break. "You were right, this stuff doesn't hurt at all. I think I'll have another."

* * *

Killian was grateful for closing time. He helped Emma to the door and out into the cool of the night, placing his jacket around her shoulders when she began to shiver.

"I will see you safely home, Swan," he said as he guided her towards her building. He hadn't counted on the strength of her resistance, even in her inebriated state.

"No, Killian, I can't go back there," she pleaded, gripping his arm tightly and pulling him back until she stumbled and fell hard into him. He tensed at the contact, her soft curves pressed against him for just a moment. He stepped back, steadying her carefully.

"You need to sleep, love. There's nothing more we can do now, tonight, and tomorrow we can work out what's next."

"I want to stay with you. Take me home with you, please." There were tears in her eyes yet again and a desperation in her voice that he knew would make it near impossible to deny her wishes.

"Swan, I'm not sure…"

She reached up and ran her hand shakily down his cheek, cupping his chin in her hand and staring intently at him.

"You would never have done this to me," she sighed, and she leaned in to press her lips softly to his. For a fleeting second, he allowed the sensation of Emma's kiss to wash over him, warm and inviting and everything he had ever wanted.

Until he remembered it wasn't - not like this, not when she was broken and in the depths of despair. When she wasn't choosing him, just choosing something different.

He pulled back from her slightly, and pressed his own lips to her forehead.

"Come, Swan, my bed is is your bed. And I guess my couch is mine."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to Brooke-to-broch, amagicalship my beautiful betas and to spartanguard who rocks the graphics and stuff in general.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting patiently for this new chapter...sometimes it just takes some time for the words to work. Would love to hear what you think.....

**Chapter 10: Baby look ahead, to better days and better ways**

The dry mouth was the final straw, forcing Emma’s eyes open enough to reach out for the water bottle she kept by her bedside. A careless investigation sent something - a book, perhaps? - crashing to the floor but unearthed no liquid to save her discomfort. Something felt off, unfamiliar, and she blinked her eyes trying to get her bearings.The red light of the alarm clock said 7.45...

_Not_ her alarm clock.

 

Not her bedroom.

Killian. Rum. She had asked him to take her home. She touched her fingers to her lips briefly as a flash of memory hit her. Oh God, she’d kissed him!

Her heart in her throat, Emma reached a tentative hand out towards the other side of the bed. His bed. Her fingers met no resistance, no warm body sharing the covers with her. The empty sheets were cool to the touch and she exhaled the breath she had been holding in relief. With everything else in tatters around her, she should have known that a man like Killian could be relied on to hold her dignity together, no matter how hard she had tried to throw herself at him.

If only she could remember how hard that was.

Before she thought any more about that, she would have to think about water. Sitting up slowly, she slid her legs out from under the covers and stretched. Her back ached - Killian may have been right about a drafty hallway and awkward position not being ideal - and she was not sure her eyes would ever be the same again. Her dress from last night was hardly appropriate day wear but it was all she had until she went home…

No. Not home. Not any more.

She could hear music. Rising, Emma looked around for something of Killian’s to cover up the dress that felt too short and too tight now she was here in his apartment, unsure of exactly what she had said and done once the rum kicked in. One of his button down shirts was hanging over a chair and she slipped it on over her dress, rolling the sleeves and tying it loosely in front. She caught a trace of his cologne in the fabric and an image of a different life flickered in her brain. Maybe rum and heartbreak were only part of what had urged her lips towards his?

She wandered towards the living room, following the source of the gentle chords. Leaning against the archway, she watched as Killian strummed his guitar, lost in thought and completely unaware of her presence. The melody was soft and sweet, his fingers moving skillfully over the strings, coaxing out the notes that were filling the quiet morning. His hair was wild and dishevelled and the mental image of him raking his fingers through it was crystal clear in her mind. The thin fabric of his worn t-shirt pulled tight across his shoulders, emphasising the movement of his muscles as he played.

Despite the pain that was coursing below the surface, watching him in his element could not help but bring a smile to her face. He always seemed so content when surrounded by his music, so comfortable. Like it settled him and made things seem OK, even if for just a little while.

That sounded like a very attractive idea to her at that moment. Because right now nothing felt OK.

A long breath escaped her lips and he turned to see her standing there. He looked her up and down and shook his head when she went to apologise for borrowing his clothes.

“I’m sorry, love, did I wake you? I must confess, I had some trouble settling last night.”

He went to put the guitar aside, but Emma put a hand out as if to stop him. “No, don’t stop. It’s beautiful. What is it?”

A flush of pink coloured his cheeks and he seemed to falter over his answer. “It’s, ah, just something I was, um, messing around with. An experiment, if you will.”

“It’s yours?” Killian nodded self consciously, and despite feeling more hungover than she had in a very long time, Emma couldn’t help but smile at his humility. For all the times she had seen his swagger and overconfidence, she knew this was the real Killian Jones, modest with just a hint of self-doubt.

“Play it for me?" she asked as she wandered towards the kitchen in search of the drink she so desperately needed. His eyes followed her every move as she filled a coffee mug she found on the counter with water and drank it without pause. There was a slight raise of an eyebrow as she downed a second and a then a third cup, but he said nothing and she refilled the mug yet again and joined him on the couch.

Pulling her knees up under her, she cradled the mug in her hands and looked expectantly at him.

"Thirsty, love?" As the words left his mouth, Emma saw the flash of uncertainty in his eyes, the question as to whether their natural banter was appropriate in this strange new world. God, she had missed this - the back and forth had come so freely to them and she craved reassurance that they could be there again after all that had happened.

"Stalling, _love_?" She echoed his tone, emphasising the consonants in that way of his and she was rewarded with a grin. "I have been making musical decisions for you for a long time, Jones, and I'm not letting you play any..."

The thought of all she had given up thanks to Neal's dishonesty stopped her mid sentence. Killian reached out to squeeze her leg, yet another sign of solidarity, of how much he understood her, and her breath hitched in a sob as the tears threatened to fall.

"Let it out if you have to, Swan." He leaned the guitar against the coffee table and moved closer to her on the couch, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into him. She let her head sink down on to his shoulder, breathing long and hard in an attempt to stave off the tears. She didn't want to cry any more. This wasn't her; Emma Swan didn't fall to pieces, she punched back and got angry and kept her heart protected. Emma Swan relied on the only person who had never let her down - herself.

_And Killian,_ the niggling voice inside her head reminded her. _He hasn't let you down._

His arm was warm and solid around her, his fingers moving gently back and forth where they touched. Reassuring, with just a hint of something else she felt a long way from ready for, no matter what the tug low down in her belly was telling her. Safe in the knowledge that he wasn't going anywhere, Emma let herself relax. If the tears came, they came and he would think no less of her. Knowing that was enough to calm the hitch in her throat and she wiped away the moisture from her eyes.

"I missed you, Killian."

She felt his lips in her hair as he kissed her temple softly. "And I, you, love. I’m so sorry you had to go through this. But you are one of the strongest people I have ever met and you will be OK.”

The faith he had in her was almost too much. It would be too easy to fall into something here with him - to just sink into the comfortable circle of his arms and let him take away the hurt and the pain. He was constant in her life, the person who had always seen the best in her, had never let her down.  A man who was content to be her friend if that was all she could give him, despite the feelings she could see so clearly now. How many times had she hurt him, unknowingly, talking about Neal and how in love she was, how happy they were? And yet he had never shied away from her, not until she pushed him.

Yes, it would be easy. But would it be fair? She was broken, and it wasn’t his job to put her back together, no matter how willing he might be.

She was saved from considering the implications by a deep growl in her stomach - a reminder that rum, while satisfying in the moment, appeared to have done nothing for her nutritional needs. Killian snorted in amusement beside her.

“Apparently you are the hungriest person I know too, Swan,” he said with a grin. “But it is now my turn to apologise. I was not expecting a house guest and my cupboards are bare, I’m afraid.”

Emma could not remember ever being so grateful for a ridiculous interruption to her thoughts.  A distraction from the confusing swirl of attraction and hurt and uncertainty that was competing with the after effects of alcohol. It was not the time for decisions, certainly not rash ones that stood a very real chance of destroying the best friendship she had ever had.

Uncurling her legs from under her, she placed the now empty mug on the table and shook her head at him. “Not much of a host, Jones.”

“Indeed. But it is a situation I am more than happy to rectify. Why don’t you avail yourself of the facilities while I organise some breakfast for us?”

That sounded perfect to Emma. With one addition.

“Coffee. Much coffee,” she insisted, a hand on his arm to emphasise her point.

“Decaf, love?”

He was still laughing at the expression on her face as he slipped on a pair of worn flip flops and grabbed his keys and wallet.

~~~~

The heat of the water running down over her aching muscles had been just what she needed. Never usually one for leisurely showers, today she let the spray wash over her aimlessly, leaning her head against the cool of the tiles and letting the tears fall as she went over and over the last few weeks in her mind.

Snippets of life with Neal came back to her, clues that Emma the bail bondsperson might have recognised as something being amiss. His eagerness to set up the ‘vacation’ account but not organising a joint access. The mailbox key she never received. Things that Emma the girlfriend had written off as inconsiderate, perhaps, but not sinister.

She had been so foolish. But she had to keep moving. Life wasn’t going to stop because she had fallen in love with an asshole. And as much as cocooning herself here in Killian’s apartment forever where she would be safe and cared for sounded appealing, it wasn’t a realistic plan.

And she was nothing if not a realist.

Turning off the water, she wrapped herself in the towel Killian had left for her and took stock of the damage in the mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she poked gently at the puffy skin below as she grimaced at herself. It was not like she had anyone to impress, she supposed, pointedly ignoring the blue eyes and scruffy hair that appeared unbidden in her mind. She needed to get on to more practical matters before her imagination got away from her.

Along with the towel, Killian had left her a t-shirt and shorts to wear, so she slipped them on, cinching in the drawstring as tight as she could. Emma breathed deeply, but straight out of his dresser, there was no lingering scent of him and a part of her was disappointed.

_Get it together, Swan. Practical, remember?_

She pulled her phone out of her tote where it had been all but forgotten last night. Checking her bank statements seemed like a good place to start if she was being practical, but the battery warning indicator showed and her charger was, of course, back at the apartment. Typical. She remembered seeing Killian’s iPad on the coffee table and was sure he wouldn’t object to her borrowing it.

Her stomach growled again as she made her way to the living room, grabbed the tablet and flopped down on a corner of the couch. Killian had been gone a long time and she almost considered digging in his cabinets for instant coffee. Almost. Flipping open the iPad cover, she grinned at the photo of the band he used as a lock screen. She had taken it one evening at a gig and tweeted it - he must have pulled it from her timeline. He was lost in the music in the picture, a faraway smile on his face that she had seen so many times when he played.

She swiped the screen and entered his passcode - they had used the device so many times when planning set lists he had decided it was easier for her to have it. The silence in the apartment was starting to bother her, so she opened his music library and selected a playlist called _My Songs._ A Crowded House track filled the air and she smiled as she remembered choosing it for their set some months ago. Opening the web browser, she clicked through to her bank and scrolled through her accounts, trying to work out how much she had lost through her transfers to Neal. As she added the amounts mentally, she realised the track had changed to a guitar piece that sounded strangely familiar. She stopped and focused on the music, trying to establish where she had heard the haunting melody before.

Closing her eyes, she saw him on this couch, his hair wild from his own hands running through it, his guitar in hand and these same notes wafting through the apartment this very morning. This was it - his song that he had maneuvered his way out of playing for her, she realised. She leaned back and just drank it in - it was soft and flowing and she knew he had something really special here. The recording was basic, no band or mixing, but she could hear Killian’s passion for music in every bar.

Practicality was calling, but she hit repeat before returning to her financial statements. She had made a fair estimate of where she stood when she heard the sound of Killian’s keys in the door. A feeling of guilt settled on her - she had intruded on his private playlist without really thinking - and she quickly switched off the music all together. The apartment was once again silent, but Emma’s mind was full of the lilting chords she had discovered.

“I’m back, love. Sorry for the delay.” Killian tossed his keys and a pile of mail on the counter and hefted two large grocery bags beside them. Emma raised a quizzical eyebrow at them and then back at him. “Patience, Swan. I would hardly forget the lady’s caffeine requirements now, would I?” He disappeared back up the small hall and reappeared with a take out tray and two jumbo sized coffees. He placed the tray on the counter next to the groceries and extracted one cup, moving immediately towards Emma’s outstretched hand with a wink.

“Put your grabby hands away, Swan. I’ll not keep you waiting. I dread to think what you would do to me if I kept you from your coffee.”

If there had been tension in her muscles after exploring her financial situation, she felt some of it ebb away as he began to tease her. For all the confusion she felt right now, the one thing she knew for sure was that she wanted this man to be around, to be by her side as she navigated whatever shit Neal had dropped her in. She needed it, and him treating her as he always had - teasing and taunting - was a hopeful sign that he could give it to her. All she had to do was not break his heart in the process.

Taking a long sip from the cup, she let the caffeine hit wash over her. “I was just about to look for…” she shuddered deliberately, “...instant.”

Killian snorted. “Luckily I arrived just in time to save you from that fate.” He was busying himself in the kitchen, opening and closing drawers and cabinets, stacking pots and pans on the counter. “And now I will save you from that growling stomach and the headache I imagine you have simultaneously.”

Emma got up from the couch, coffee in hand, and made herself comfortable on a stool near the counter, watching him as he started to prepare their breakfast.

“That’s a lot of protein there, Jones,” she said, eyeing off the bacon, sausage and eggs that he had stacked by the cooktop.

“Best cure for a hangover, love, a bit of grease.” He dropped some bacon in the pan and it was soon sizzling away as he chopped tomatoes and mushrooms. When that job was done, he looked thoughtfully across the counter at Emma, still cradling her coffee cup, as he monitored the meat. “Perhaps while I am cooking, we can try to work out some kind of plan? Talk things through?”

Emma sighed deeply, knowing he was right, that she had to make some decisions about her next move. She still had a lot of questions and no idea of how to get the answers. “I guess I will have to go back to the apartment today.” Killian nodded, turning the bacon and tossing some sausage in alongside it.

“Probably a good idea. I’m more than happy to come with you, love, if you’d like the company?”  

“I would,” she answered quickly. The idea of stepping back into that apartment still filled her with dread, but having Killian alongside her would certainly make it easier to bear.  

~~~~

Killian had been right about the grease helping her hangover. Unfortunately no amount of bacon could stem the pain she felt when they approached Neal's - she refused to think of it as hers anymore - apartment building later that day.

Stepping out of the elevator, Emma felt the tension that had eased while Killian cooked her breakfast return with a vengeance. Her breath quickened as they walked towards the apartment door, and Killian squeezed her shoulder as if sensing her discomfort. She fumbled with her key, wondering for a moment if the landlord had changed the locks already with all her belongings still inside.

“Shit.” She swore at the key as she rattled it back and forth. “Stupid fucking lock…”

Killian placed his hand over hers and smiled softly at her. “Allow me Swan, before one of the neighbours calls the constabulary.”

Emma withdrew her hand and watched as he turned the lock on the first attempt, swinging the door wide open. She stood in the doorway, just looking in at the familiar surroundings that had felt like home just a day ago. And now she was struggling to even cross the threshold.

"All right, love?" Killian stood close behind her, his voice low and comforting in her ear. She nodded and forced herself to take the first step into the hall, averting her eyes from the photographs on the hall stand and Neal's coat draped over the chair. She had been able to think practically when she was a few degrees removed from the situation, safe and comfortable in Killian's apartment, but somehow here the emotions and hurt were overwhelming all over again. And the anger. She could feel that bubbling up again too.

She stood in the living room, surveying the remnants of the life she had thought she was going to have. And now she had only days to pack up and make a new life for herself. Again.  

"Bastard." Her voice was harsh, her thoughts harsher. She would punch him in the face, so help her.

Killian appeared behind her, two mugs in his hands.

"Aye," Killian agreed. "That he is." He handed her a steaming cup and she looked curiously at him. "Tea, Swan. It seemed a bit early for rum."

"Is it?" she asked with a deep sigh. "Really?"

"I thought you might say that," he said, extracting a small bottle from his pocket and tipping a generous measure into both cups. "Found this in the kitchen. Strictly medicinal of course." Emma took a long sip, the hot liquid burning as it ran down her throat. Unable to make a decision about her next course of action, she dropped on to the couch, indicating for Killian to do the same.

They sat in silence, sipping from their tea at regular intervals. As much as Emma had dreaded coming here, she had hoped that being in this room might give her some idea of what to do next. _Where_ to go next. But beyond a need to charge her phone, there was not much in the way of inspiration.

“Any thoughts, love?”

“Not many that don’t involve inflicting bodily harm on Neal,” she admitted and he snorted in agreement. “But I am going to have to pack up my stuff and find a new apartment I guess. I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to.”

“I may have an idea about that…” he began but Emma interjected, shaking her head.

“I am not putting you on your couch for another night, Killian.”

It almost seemed like a look of regret in his eyes. “Much appreciated, Swan, but you would be very welcome if it would make this whole situation easier on you.” The temptation to throw caution to the wind and say yes to this suggestion was strong. His face was so earnest - she knew he was completely genuine in his offer, that nothing would be too much trouble to put her mind at ease.

It was very dangerous ground.

"However," he continued, shaking her from her thoughts. "My offering to sleep on the couch was not the plan I had in mind." Emma's eyes widened and she raised an eyebrow at him. He swallowed hard, obviously realising what he had said and she grinned at his discomfort. Her reaction seemed to relax him and he laughed as a two small spots of colour appeared on his cheeks. He waggled a finger at her.

"Out of the gutter, Swan. I offer a roof over your head in your drunken state and all you can think about is having your way with me." The wink that accompanied this statement was ridiculously exaggerated and Emma threw her head back and laughed.

It felt good.

He was watching her closely, she noticed, the innuendo laden smirk that had been on his face transforming into something softer, more affectionate. There was a warmth in his blue eyes that was impossible to ignore, and the small tug of...something...was calling for her attention.

"It's good to see you laughing," he said softly, reaching up and tucking a stray curl of blonde hair behind her ear. His finger trailled along her cheek as he withdrew his hand and the spark of heat that Emma felt at his touch made her spring back.

She was flustered and breathed out deeply. "So what was your plan, Killian?" she asked, trying desperately to keep her voice level and calm as she changed the subject. He blinked once or twice, obviously affected himself, before answering.

"Mary Margaret and Dave have been discussing finding a roommate, at least in the short term. I believe they may have some plans afoot that will take Mary Margaret out of employment for a while. I wondered whether you might like to take the room until you find something more suitable?”

Emma considered this for a moment. She had met the couple many times and had always found them easy to be around, welcoming to a fault. In her current state, the combination of stress and time pressure was likely to make for hasty decisions and this seemed like an ideal solution.

“Would they have me, do you think?” she asked. “It sounds perfect, to be honest.”

Killian looked slightly sheepish. “Confession time, love. I may have already inquired as to their willingness when the idea struck me this morning. They would be delighted to have you as soon as you like.”

Relief rushed through Emma’s body, a layer of pressure that had been weighing down on her lifting. She may still have a lot of unanswered questions but at least she wasn’t going to be on the streets asking them.

Clearly unsure of the reason for her silence, Killian looked on anxiously, his fingers finding the spot behind his ear that she knew indicated he was uncomfortable before busying himself gathering the now empty mugs. When he stood to return them to the kitchen, she stood too and took them from his hands, placing them back on the coffee table. Her eyes met his and she stared into their depths for a moment, somehow not afraid of what she might see there. His lips curled upwards in a soft smile and she reached her hand to touch his cheek. His stubble was rough and scratchy beneath her fingertips and she saw him swallow hard yet again. She leaned up and touched her lips softly to his opposite cheek, as her thumb moved gently back and forth over his scruff.

“Thank you,” she whispered, knowing her words were for so much more than just finding her a new home. She snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her. She felt him tense as her body pressed against his, felt his hands twitch as he resisted, as he took a moment to compose himself. The thought that she was being unfair flittered across her mind, that his feelings were near to the surface but as his arms moved to encircle her waist and he held her close she couldn’t bring herself to let him go.

Emma had no idea how long they stood there. She pulled away slowly, listening to his studied, even breathing as he opened his eyes and smiled softly at her.

“You are very welcome, Emma.”

Those words sent a shiver of feeling down her spine. His voice was full of longing he could not disguise and when he used her name it was as if she was being drawn back to him. She had to resist, no matter how much her traitorous body was telling her not to. The hole in her world was too big to let him try and fill it.

For now.

She stepped back, collecting the mugs from where she had abandoned them and moved towards the kitchen. Her thoughts swirled as she rinsed the last remnants of tea and rum down the sink and she found herself humming softly in an attempt to calm them. The melody was fixed in her mind and as the notes filled the air she realised just what it was she was using to ease her mind.

So did Killian. He stepped into the kitchen, a quizzical look on his face as he recognised the tune.

“I’m sorry,” she started. “I used your iPad and I heard it…” He held up a hand to stop her, his blue eyes soft and smiling.

“No harm done, Swan. I guess you bested me on that maneuver. Fair play to you.”

There was silence as they stood looking awkwardly at each other. Both uncomfortable, they spoke at once.

“So Swan, I -”

“Killian, you should - “  They both laughed, breaking the tension, much to Emma’s relief.

“Ladies first,” he said, with the hint of a bow.

“I’ll be fine here tonight. I have to pack and see the landlord, I guess, but knowing I have somewhere to go is making this place seem less daunting. You should go home, sleep in your own bed. Maybe tomorrow after work we can go see Mary Margaret?”

“If you’re sure? I’m happy to keep you company if you need it.”

Need wasn’t the word, she suspected, but it was not the time to want it quite so badly, so selfishly.

 

She shook her head at him. “I’m fine, truly. Go home, rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As she spoke, she began to walk him towards the front door. If he wanted to protest, he thought better of it and he stepped into the hall without a word. Emma stood in the doorway as he turned back to face her.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, his breath warm and tickling the sensitive skin. “I am only a phone call away, love, if you need me. Goodbye.” His lips brushed her cheek, so softly she wondered if she had imagined it, but the lasting sensation of the touch assured her it was real. His tongue darted across his lips and she breathed out deeply as she said goodbye and closed the door softly behind him.

As the lock clicked in place, she slumped forward and leaned her head against the smooth wood of the door, her hand pressed onto the hard surface. For the first time, she felt a spark of hope amongst the hurt and confusion. The chance there was something else that could come from the ashes of this disaster, given time and patience.

  
And she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amagicalship and Brooke-to-broch are the betas of my dreams. I love you girls. Truly.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Second to last chapter! Oh my goodness. I know I have said it over and over but the fact that people have responded to this story in such a positive way has made me a bit emotional at times. And that you have been patient through these last few chapters where the time in between has started to stretch (note to self: next MC, try writing the WHOLE thing before posting LOL) The chapters have started to stretch too!_

**Chapter 11: Don’t have to tell you, I love your precious heart**

****  
  


The quiet of his classroom in the early morning had seemed the perfect place to try and comprehend the events of the last few days. There was something about the peace of an almost empty school, the ordered rows of desks and chairs that helped him clear his mind when it was at its most scattered. Flipping open his iPad, he opened his music and chose his favourite playlist, the one he still wasn’t quite admitting should have her name on it. Closing his eyes, he let the thoughts swirl through his mind along with the music.

_Leaning back against her door, his hand had moved absently across his cheek, tracing the spot where her lips had pressed softly against his skin. He hadn’t imagined the spark between them when her arms had curled around his neck, an attraction that had nothing to do with hurt or alcohol, but it wasn’t time. She was hurting, angry, and the Emma Swan he knew would second guess any big decisions she made when those feelings were prominent in her head._

He had no idea how she always managed to know when he was at his most vulnerable, but the sound of delicate footsteps indicated Mary Margaret was in his classroom, sliding a cup of coffee across the desk to him before he had opened his eyes.

“How’s Emma?” she asked, perching herself on the edge of his desk. He waited for the inevitable string of follow up questions, raising an expectant eyebrow at her, but it appeared his friend had decided to change her interrogation strategy. She smiled serenely, taking delicate sips of her coffee until the silence was more than he could take.

“That is a fairly minimalist request by your standards,” he said. “No list of queries today?”

Mary Margaret placed the cup down and went to get her usual chair. Killian smiled to himself - there might not be a lot of questions, but she was clearly here for the long haul.

“I think the question stands alone, Killian. Your friend - our friend - has had a horrible thing happen and I want to know how she is handling it.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed. “All things considered, she is handling it quite well. She’s hurt and angry and she needs some answers because he has told her nothing, but I think she will be ok. Eventually.”

His hand went unconsciously to his cheek, to the spot where Emma’s lips had brushed against his stubble, just as it had as he stood outside her door. There was that tiny spark of hope again, a brief moment of thinking someday she might return his feelings. A fact that clearly showed on his face.

“What’s that smile? Killian, please tell me you didn’t…”

He shook his head at Mary Margaret, who was looking at him, her eyes full of concern. “I hardly think I would be accosting Emma a day after she’s had her heart broken. Whatever I may feel for her, I’m not that callous.” His voice was sharper than he had intended, but when he went to apologise, she waved him away.

"No, I'm sorry. Of course you wouldn't. But I know that smile. That is a hopeful smile." She reached out and covered his hand with hers. He waited for her to speak again, but soon realised she was not listening to him, but rather to the song playing in the background.

“What’s this? I haven’t heard you play this song before - it’s really lovely.”

He bowed his head slightly. “You’re hearing me play it now.”

“It’s yours? You wrote this?”

A wry smile crossed his lips. “A man could start to doubt himself with the way people keep asking that question. You’re not the first one to sound surprised.”

“Emma?” she asked and Killian nodded.

She studied him carefully and Killian resigned himself to the fact that she was about to reveal  anything he was trying to keep to himself. He knew that look so well, the one that turned 8 year old misdoers to jello in exactly the same way it did to him. He sighed heavily and gestured for her to continue.

”Did she realise it’s for her?” Killian wished he had not chosen that moment to take a sip from his coffee as he spluttered at her question.

“Bloody hell, woman. How do you do that?”

“It’s a gift,” she shrugged. “I know you, Killian, it’s not hard to put the pieces together. Does it have lyrics?”

He thought about the file on his phone where he had saved words and phrases and snippets of ideas that had come to him at random moments.

“Not yet,” he answered.

“It should,” she said quietly. “It might just take time.” There was a shuffling from the hallway alerting them both to the fact that the quiet was almost over. Mary Margaret stood and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Dinner tonight. Emma was coming to talk about moving in anyway so you can both stay and eat with us."

He grinned and raised his hand in a sarcastic salute. "Your wish is my command, milady. As ever."

"Good," she said as she reached the doorway. A few childish voices greeted her as she turned into the hallway, but before she was swallowed up in a sea of small people she turned back to him.

"One more thing, Killian." Her face was serious, eyes full of concern. "Be careful. The last thing I want to see from all this is another broken heart."

He smiled at her, an image of Emma as she had said goodnight to him, the spark of attraction still clear between them fixed in his mind.

"The last thing I would ever do is hurt her."

Mary Margaret shook her head gently. "I'm not talking about hers, Killian."

She was gone before he could respond, the sound of the school bell signalling the start of another day. Before turning off his music, he stared at the open playlist. His finger hesitated over his original song for a moment before selecting it to rename.

Enough denial, he thought as he typed a new name into the bar, time to call things what they were.

_Emma's Song._

* * *

 

Arriving home, he tossed his keys on the counter and opened the door to the fridge, pulling out a beer and casting an eye over the lacklustre contents. Dinner at the Nolan's appeared to be a good option until he hit the supermarket. The pile of mail he had dumped yesterday sat on the counter and he collected it and sunk on to the couch. As much as his mind was racing, thoughts of Emma intertwined with music and work and a million other things, he needed to maintain some semblance of normality. Bills needed paying, emails needed answering, and quite possibly, band business needed sorting. The reality of being without a manager had not even entered his head in the light of Emma’s heartbreak, but as he opened his email and saw the multitude of messages flying among his bandmates it appeared he was the only one not thinking about the potential complications.

Did they even have a gig any more? Leroy had said they would reopen the bar the next night - yesterday,  he supposed - but that gave no certainty to the band. It seemed management was being passed to him until he could find a viable alternative. Scrolling through the list of unread messages, he collated a mental note of issues and fired off a general response to the boys as best he could.

Turning his attention to the envelopes, he flicked through the crisp paper. Bills mostly, interspersed with the kind of sneaky advertisements that made you think they were real letters. As he flicked the junk mail aside, he almost missed the crumpled envelope with his name and address scratched out in thick black pen. He stopped, the letter in his hand, as the reason for the familiarity of the handwriting struck him. He didnt even need to turn it over in the search for a return address. He knew there wouldn’t be one.

It was from bloody Neal Cassidy.

He exhaled heavily as he considered his options. His first thought was to call Emma, to hand over the letter unread in the hope that it contained some of the information she so badly deserved. But as he started to dial her number, he realised the fact Neal had sent it to him rather than leave a less cryptic note for Emma herself meant there was every chance she didn't need to see its contents directly.

He could only hope the bastard had actually left some answers this time.

* * *

 

The letter crumpled in his pocket, Killian arrived at the Nolan’s apartment to find Emma’s distinctive yellow bug already parked outside. He had hoped he might catch her before David and Mary Margaret inevitably laid claim to her attention, but it appeared the time it had taken to comprehend the contents of the bloody envelope had put paid to that idea.

Knocking on their door, his mind was racing with everything he needed to tell her - at the risk of breaking her yet again. She was strong and determined and deserving of the answers he now held but it killed him to have to be the one who told her the truth. To be the one who bailed Cassidy out yet again.

Mary Margaret answered the door and ushered him inside.

“Emma’s already here,” she said, looking him up and down. She didn’t miss a beat before asking, “What’s wrong, Killian?”

“There was a letter from Neal at my place.” Mary Margaret’s eyes widened. “I need a chance to talk to her.” She nodded her understanding and led him into the living room, where David and Emma were sitting, each nursing a beer. Emma’s face brightened as she saw him and he couldn't help but grin back at her.

“Looking right at home there, Swan,” he said as Mary Margaret handed him a beer and he took the seat on the couch next to Emma. He lowered his voice, and reached out a hand to pat her knee. “How are you doing, love?”

She put her hand on his and squeezed his fingers gently. “I’m OK.” She was prevented from elaborating by Mary Margaret’s voice from the doorway.

“David, I need you to come and help me with dinner please.” David began to grumble but the look on his wife’s face seemed to convince him fairly quickly to move. Emma watched suspiciously as he went, turning back to Killian with a raised eyebrow.

"What was that about, do you think?"

Killian sighed heavily, running his fingers through his dark hair. He hesitated for just a moment before saying, "Swan, we need to talk."

Emma took a swig of her beer. "Well that is never good." She looked at him expectantly, her teeth biting her bottom lip as she prepared for the blow she clearly imagined was coming.

He wished she was wrong.

"I got a letter," he began, his voice low and nervous. "It was from Neal." He waited for her reaction, a response of some kind, but her face remained disturbingly neutral.

“And I want to know what that asshole didn’t have the guts to say to me because…?” There was no vehemence in her voice - her tone was flat without a trace of anger. Resigned, perhaps. He reached over and curled his fingers around hers, squeezing gently.

“Because you need some answers, love. And for some reason he sent them to me.”

Emma breathed out deeply, pulling her legs up underneath her on the sofa. She turned to him, stony-faced but clearly willing to hear what he had to say. Killian extracted the crumpled letter from his pocket and started to read.

_Killian,_

_I’ve fucked up big time and I am going to leave a mess and I am going to need your help. I know I was a dick to you and I don’t deserve it but it’s Emma and I know you will do it for her. She’s better than all this shit - needs someone better than me. I don’t know, I think I have things together and then I just get sucked back into the crap._

__

_I lost a heap of cash betting online - hockey mostly - you know how it goes, you’re winning, it’s all good until it isn’t any more. I managed to get a bit of cash from my dad but he won‘t help me now. I just needed another win, you know, and it would have been all fine but I had an unlucky streak and I was in deep. I used the rent and Ems’ vacation money but in the end I had to borrow it. And the guys I borrowed from were not too happy to wait for the streak to be over…_

“God, I am such an idiot.”  Emma interrupted, shaking her head. She took a swig from her beer before continuing. “How does someone like me not see these signs when they are right under her nose?”

“You loved him, Swan. You wanted to see the best in him.”

“Well that was my first mistake, wasn’t it? What else does the bastard have to say?”

_...I had to have the cash quick - these were hardcore guys, they would really have messed me up but I just couldn’t get it together. So I figured the best thing I could do was get out of town till the heat was off and I could get the cash._

__

_Tell Ems I’m sorry about the money, man. But not as sorry as I am about the rest._

Killian paused, steeling himself for the part that he knew would hurt her the most. Emma was still curled up next to him, fingernail picking absently at the label of her beer bottle as she listened. She didn’t even look up at the final words, just shook her head despondently.

“Are you all right for me to go on, Emma?”

She shrugged and took another sip of the beer. “I can’t see how I could feel any worse. Just tell me. Zelena’s with him, right? He left me and took her?” The voice that had been unnaturally calm earlier started to take on a sharper edge. “Why not really go for it - is she pregnant? Because that would be fucking perfect.”

Emma must have heard his sharp intake of breath because her eyes snapped to his. “Killian…”

“No, love, not pregnant. But yes, she is with him. Do you want me to read what he said?” Emma nodded slowly.

_When I told Z I was going she begged me to take her with me - she needed to get out of here too and her family had a place we could go and lay low. She can help me get the money and I feel like I can help her by taking her away. We’ll be OK together - we are a lot alike, man. Not like me and Ems. She is something else - way too good for me. She’ll be better off with me gone. You’ll make her see that._

Emma’s voice was almost a whisper. “Enough. I don’t want to know any more.”

Killian reached over and took the bottle from her hands, placing it on the table. Then he took her hands in his, running his thumbs gently over the back of her fingers. Her breath hitched and he noticed the tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, love. Sorry that you have to go through all of this and sorry that he was too much of a coward to tell you himself.”

“Not surprised, though? You’ve known the bastard a lot longer than me.” He flinched at the harsh tone in her voice but did not let go of her hands. He looked her in the eyes, unmoving until he saw her shoulders drop and her body relax.

“Aye, I have. But in all that time I have never seen him the way he was with you. As big a bastard as he is, he loved you. I am sure of that.”

Killian paused, contemplating the words left unsaid - that knowing Neal had cared so much for her was what had made loving her so painful. Realising the man might actually make it work, might have got his house in order. That he would never have his chance.

But apparently human nature had won out in the end.

“It wasn’t enough, Killian.” The tears had started to roll down her cheeks, and he cupped her face in his hands. His thumb brushed her cheek softly, wiping away the moisture as it fell. She reached out and fisted her hands in the soft fabric of his shirt, resting her forehead against his. He breathed her in, part of him revelling in her closeness, the other part knowing he could be headed for disaster.

“Love, I may be sorry you are hurting but I’m not sorry that you were with him,” She pulled back slightly, green eyes confused at his words but her hands did not relax their grip on him. His thumb continued its path across the softness of her cheek as he finished. “If you were never with him, I wouldn’t have you in my life. And that would make my life a far poorer thing, Emma.”

There was a moment of stillness between them that he would never forget. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she looked at him, her breathing deep and studied. His mouth turned up in the smallest of smiles, and he realised she was moving slowly towards him. Her eyes fluttered closed as her lips met his, the softest of kisses that sent a flood of warmth throughout his whole body. He waited for her to pull back, but instead she pulled him closer, her lips gently exploring his as she deepened the kiss.

As his hands slid into the soft fall of her hair, he considered the possibility that he was making a huge mistake. Their mouths separated, both breathing out together as their eyes locked. He waited for her to move away, to realise the mistake she had made, but instead she seemed to think about moving towards him again.

"David, can you go and tell Killian and Emma that dinner is ready?" came a voice from the hall.

They sprang apart just as David’s head appeared around the door, followed by Mary Margaret. While they were now separate, Emma’s cheeks were clearly flushed and Killian had to resist brushing a stray curl from her shoulder.

“Ready for dinner, guys?” David asked cheerfully and Emma stood quickly, casting a quick glance over her shoulder at Killian as she followed their host out of the room. Mary Margaret lingered for just a moment, eyeing him carefully, her expression full of a million questions that he knew he couldn’t answer at that moment.

They would have to wait until he had answered the multitude of his own.

“I hope you remember what I said about being careful, Killian,” she said softly as he picked up the letter from where it had fallen when his hands were otherwise occupied.

“I’ll be at the table in a moment,” he said. Mary Margaret nodded and left him to his thoughts. Before folding the letter away, he ran his eyes over the last paragraph - the one he had hoped he could keep to himself for risk of scaring her.

_I know you love her, man - she’s probably the only one who doesn’t know it for sure. You didn’t fucking hide it. I saw her slipping away towards you before any of this - I never made her smile like you did. I didn’t tell her all that shit about you and Milah, turns out my own shit was problematic enough._

__

_I saw the way she looked at you that last night at the bar. She is going to be ok. And the hero will get the girl._

__

_Be good to her, man._

_N_

__

Shoving the letter in his pocket, Killian ran his fingers across his mouth, tracing the path her lips had taken on his. Thoughts of hope and happiness were interspersed in his mind with the nagging doubt that he was pushing, that she was holding on to a constant before she was ready. Mary Margaret’s plea for him to look after his heart seemed more important than ever at this moment. Because he knew one thing.

When it came to Emma Swan, he was all in. And if she wasn’t in it with him, his heart might never recover.

* * *

 

Killian never thought he would be so grateful for David’s lack of boundaries as he was over dinner. Mary Margaret’s inquiring looks at Killian and Emma’s withdrawn silence had made for some awkward moments as they had started their meal, but as their host had regaled them with tales from the sheriff’s station and kept their wine glasses full, they had all started to relax.

“So, Emma, has the asshole given you any idea of what the hell he is doing?” David asked casually, taking a sip of his wine as he was waiting for his wife to bring dessert to the table. Three pairs of eyes rounded on him in surprise.

“David,” hissed Mary Margaret angrily from the kitchen. “You can’t ask her that.”

“Give her a break, mate,” Killian added at the same time, but Emma said nothing. Mary Margaret returned to the table, placing the peach cobbler in the centre before squeezing her husband’s shoulder perhaps a little more forcefully than required. Emma’s face was unreadable as she looked at David, and the silence settled heavily on them as she bit down on her lip and breathed deeply. Killian was about to reach out a hand to comfort her when her expression shifted and she grinned wryly at David.

“So right into it then?” she asked and David smiled back with a unapologetic shrug.

“No point sugar coating it,” he stated. “Killian and Mary Margaret know I have always thought Cassidy was trouble…”

Killian couldn’t let that one go. “That sounds like sugar coating considering some of the things I’ve heard you say about him before.”

David had the good grace to look sheepish. “Well, I didn’t want to make Emma feel uncomfortable.”

“Not to mention I gave him a sharp kick under the table,” Mary Margaret added and Emma laughed. It was crisp and clear and Killian had not realised how much he had missed the sound of it. Their friendship had been full of laughter and he cursed Neal again for taking that from him for so long.

Emma relaxed back into her chair and picked up her glass. "No point in keeping secrets," she said, her voice steady although Killian could hear the pain still apparent below the surface. David may have broken the ice, but it would be some time before they saw the carefree side of Emma Swan again.

"I guess you know he didn't really tell me anything - he sent Killian a letter instead so he could tell me that he was in trouble with some loan sharks and that Zelena was with him."

David looked at Killian, the contempt for Neal clear on his face. "Letting you bail him out yet again, mate. He'll never change - he took advantage of you in college and he's doing it again now." His wife put a hand on his arm to quieten him but David had more to say. "He threatened you, Killian..." At this, Emma looked quizzically at Killian who just shook his head quickly, "...told Emma God knows what to cover his ass and then ran off when the shit hit the fan. All asshole moves. I know you are hurting, Emma, and I hate that. But big picture? He's no loss."

He downed the remainder of his glass in one go at the conclusion of this speech. The others sat in stunned silence, until Mary Margaret stood and began to serve dessert, desperate to return some semblance of order to the evening.

Placing a bowl in front of Emma, Mary Margaret rested a hand on her shoulder and spoke softly. “I hope my... _straight-talking_ husband hasn’t put you off about moving in. We would really love to have you, Emma.” Emma smiled at her and shook her head.

“Actually, I think a bit of straight talking might be just what I need. How soon can I move in?”

* * *

 

He walked Emma to her car, a plan in place to move her in the next night. She seemed somehow lighter to Killian, like knowing the truth had lifted a weight from her shoulders. The smile on her lips seemed to reach her eyes for the first time since he had found her in the hallway outside Neal’s apartment.

“Sorry if Dave got a bit intense there,” he said as they reached her car. She leaned against the hood, clearly contemplating this seriously as she stretched her long legs out in front of her.

“No, it was fine. It was good to hear that stuff, in a way. Reminded me that this is him - his choices. Doesn’t make it hurt less, but I am realising it is not my fault.”

“Don’t tell me you blamed yourself…” he started but she held up a hand to silence him.

“Don’t tell _me_ you haven’t blamed yourself in all this - that if you had told me about Zelena sooner things would be different.” He said nothing, couldn’t deny her words. “They wouldn’t be, not really. Neal is Neal and if it wasn’t this it would have been something else. David made me see that.”

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, conscious of the now tattered paper that had felt like such a burden when he arrived. He had been afraid it would be too much for her, but he had underestimated her strength, her will to move forward. David, on the other hand…

“There was more in the letter.” It wasn’t a question. She held his gaze determinedly and despite his best efforts to look away he found he couldn’t. He ran his hand through his dark hair, unsure of his best course of action in this moment.

“There was. And I will share it if you insist. But it is more about me than you and I suspect it would be better left for another day.”

She studied him carefully, green eyes searching as if she could see every thought, every feeling. It felt like an age, standing there with her gaze turned on him but he did not falter.

“I trust you, Killian. Another day it is. But I will hold you to it.”

“You can hold me whenever you like, love.” The words were out before he could stop himself. He looked hesitantly at Emma but she was merely shaking her head, eyes rolled back.

“I thought rum was your answer to everything?” she smiled. “Going for innuendo as a back up?”

KIllian laughed out loud and winked ridiculously at her. He received a sharp slap on the arm for his troubles as Emma laughed along with him.

“Idiot,” she chuckled.

“A man has to play to his strengths, Swan. And it’s good to hear you laugh.” He came and sat next to her on the hood of the car, both looking up at the apartment that would be her new home. She would be happy here with his friends, of that he was sure. Watching them all over dinner had reassured him that his idea to put them together was the right one.

“Feeling good about your new home, love?” he asked, holding himself back from pulling her into his arms. He could still feel the touch of her lips on his and something in the way her eyes darted to his own lips made him think that perhaps she could feel it too.

“I know I said thanks already, but I really want you to know how grateful I am.“ She reached out and took his hand in hers, her eyes firmly fixed on the place where they were touching. He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a soft kiss across her knuckles, before intertwining his fingers with hers. He leaned down and touched his head to hers, resting there for just a moment.

“Swan, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”  

Killian heard her breath hitch at his words, hardly daring to move in case he had broken the spell by speaking the truth. She moved beside him and he prepared for her to run, but instead she turned and stood facing him, never letting go of his hand as she did. She took his other hand and pulled him up to her, interlacing her fingers just as he had. Her face was serious, eyes searching his as if needing to be sure his words were true.

Apparently she found her answers, as she spoke softly to him.

“I know. I really do. But I still feel broken, Killian, and I need time to put myself back together.” Releasing his fingers, she moved her hand to cup his cheek, her thumb trailing across the scruff. Killian felt every movement, knew he would keep feeling them for a long time to come. “But there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, either.”

Her lips were pressing against his before he had a chance to even process her words. It was the lightest of kisses, barely a touch but he felt it all the way to his toes.

“Just be patient with me.”

She was in her car and pulling away from the curb before he had a chance to formulate a response. He watched the taillights disappear out of sight, her words running through his mind alongside the memory of her kiss.

He could be patient. He had all the time in the world.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well here it is...the last chapter. I almost feel like I need some kind of acceptance speech here, so I can thank all the people who have helped me bring this random idea inspired by our beloved Irishman and his love for music to life. As someone whose first writing efforts were 100 word drabbles this feels like quite the achievement! With the added bonus of sharing my love for INXS with the world!  
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged, commented or some combination of the above throughout this story - you will never know the thrill I got from reading tags and having people send me random caps or even shouting at Neal in Spanish.

 

 

**Chapter 12: And they can never tear us apart**

_Piercing blue eyes stared intently at her as his hand disappeared into her blonde hair and pulled her into a kiss. His lips were on hers, insistent and searching as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. When he pressed her back against the wall, she barely recognised the low and needy moan that escaped her lips. His hand moved along the curves of her body, sending a shiver of anticipation through her as she snaked her hands around his waist and pulled him hard against her…_

The shrill beep of her alarm woke Emma with a start. A string of curse words flew out of her mouth.

These particular dreams had become more frequent recently and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t keen to see one through to...completion.

It had been six weeks since Neal had disappeared and her life had been an unsettling mix of disconcerting and comforting ever since. When she thought back to the night he left, sitting in the hallway outside the apartment, the sense of loneliness she had felt was overwhelming. She had steeled herself to accept that she was clearly meant to be alone, to never be enough for anyone.

Until those elevator doors slid open and those long-held fears disappeared at the sight of him..

She was enough in the eyes of Killian Jones - the way he looked at her when he thought she didn’t notice would attest to that. And she was beginning to realise that more than anything, she wanted to agree with him.

Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, she looked around at her now familiar surroundings, thanking her lucky stars yet again for the Nolans and their unflagging hospitality. Without them providing her a home on a moment's notice, she could only imagine where she would be emotionally at this point. Certainly a hell of a lot more angry, she thought. There had been plenty of abandonment, plenty of loss, in her life before and it had hit with a vengeance. But somehow this time, surrounded by people who genuinely cared for her - love you, even, said a small voice as an image of dark hair and blue eyes flashed in her head - this time it was very different.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret’s head appeared around the door. "Oh good, I was just coming to make sure you were up. Is it still OK to drop me at school this morning?"

This moment of domesticity was so normal and yet so foreign that Emma had a sudden urge to hug her housemate, which brought a wide grin to her face.

Yep, definitely a different set of feelings, she thought. Take that Cassidy, you moron.

Apparently a _little_ of the old anger remained.

"It’s the least I can do,” Emma said, moving towards the other woman. “Have I told you how much it means that you guys let me move in?” Mary Margaret hesitated for a fraction of a second before pulling Emma into a hug.

“You have,” Mary Margaret said into Emma’s shoulder, before pulling back to look her in the eyes sincerely. “And we are so glad you did. We already adopted Killian. There is plenty of room in our family for you, Emma.”

Mary Margaret had turned and headed downstairs before Emma moved again, biting her lip against the threat of tears prickling in the corner of her eyes.

* * *

“Oh, looks like Killian isn’t here yet.”

It could have been a coincidence. Emma was sure she had been subtle in her visual sweep of the elementary school parking lot, but her travel companion had piped up almost as soon as they drove in. Pulling into the nearest vacant spot, Emma turned off the engine as Mary Margaret gathered her numerous belongings. Apparently teachers didn’t travel light.

“What time do you need to be picked up?” Emma asked, but Mary Margaret was smiling widely at something over Emma’s left shoulder. There was a rap on the window behind her and she turned, coming face to face with Killian. She wound down the window, and he leaned into the car, his folded arms resting on the sill.

“Morning Swan; milady,” he said, nodding to each in turn.

“Hey, Killian. All ready for the staff meeting? Aren’t you sharing that new music app with us today?” Emma was grateful for Mary Margaret greeting him with a barrage of school-related questions. Between the definition of his muscular forearms and the spicy scent of his cologne, she found herself slightly distracted, flashes from the dream she had been having that morning colouring her cheeks with a tinge of pink. She stared out the windshield, her breathing focused and steady, in an attempt to regain her composure before he - or worse, Mary Margaret - realised the effect he was having on her. And apparently on some of the other staff, she noted, as more than one of the teachers arriving to start their day took a second look at him and his tightly-clad ass extending from her car.

“Swan?” he asked, looking at her expectantly. Clearly she had missed something in her distraction. She shooed away thoughts of chasing down ogling women and telling them to back off to return his gaze.

“Sorry,” she said. “What was that?”

“I was just saying the boys have been asking about you. You haven’t been to a gig since...well, since Cassidy...and they would love to see you.” Killian was looking at her hopefully and she bit her bottom lip, unsure of what to say. She hadn’t felt like stepping foot in the bar again - it was too connected with Neal and Zelena and her own blindness to the truth, coupled with the niggling fear that without Neal she was no longer part of the group, would be an outsider again - but something about his eager expression made her want to rethink. She missed listening to them play, if she was honest, and they had asked for her.

“We are rehearsing this afternoon, maybe you could drop in? If you didn’t want to come to the gig tomorrow night.” Emma didn’t even have a chance to respond before Mary Margaret cut in.

“Great idea. I could go with Killian and you could meet me there. It will save you the trip back here to pick me up.” The enthusiasm was contagious. Killian was smiling, Mary Margaret was planning and Emma was going along for the ride.

“Sure, why not?” she said, unable to help matching the grin on Killian’s face, and pointedly ignoring the satisfied look on the face of Mary Margaret. It looked like she was going back to the bar after all.

****  
  


* * *

 

The rehearsal must have already started, she thought, as she pushed open the rear door of the bar because she could hear a guitar softly playing. As she came closer to the stage area, a soft smile came over her face as she realised it was Killian’s original song she was hearing and she paused just out of sight to listen. The melody gave her the same chills as it did the first time she heard it, but just as she was about to make her presence known, Killian began to sing.

_Met you when you couldn’t be_

_More than just a friend to me_

_And now you’re hurting_

_Heart’s uncertain_

_Could I be the one you need?_

__

_I can’t help the way I’m feeling_

_Right girl, wrong time, heart needs healing_

_Loving you comes easy, darling_

_We’ve got all the time in the world_

__

_Scared to take a chance again_

_Love opens up your heart again_

_No use pretending_

_You’re my happy ending_

_I need to be more than just your friend_

****  
  


Inhaling deeply, she let his lilting voice infiltrate her head, the realisation that this was for her hitting hard. No matter how many times she had watched him sing other people’s songs, how many times she had half-known he was singing to her, this was something very different. She leaned back against the wall, heart racing and mind whirling. Half of her wanted to run, not ready for the feelings this song - her song - represented. How could she be ready? She was weeks out of a three year relationship, weeks since she was betrayed and abandoned by a man who had said he loved her. And yet all the other half of her wanted to do was wrap her arms around this man - who it seemed did love her - and love him back.

She was saved from the decision by the sound of male voices making their way into the room. Will and Victor barrelled in, each grinning widely when they saw her standing there.

“Emma!” The singing from the other room stopped abruptly. She didn’t have time to worry about that before Will enveloped her in a bear hug, refusing to let go until she returned the favour. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He released her and stepped away as Victor came in close, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

“It’s good to see you, Emma. It’s been far too long.” He draped an arm around her shoulder and led her into the rehearsal room. Mary Margaret was sitting beside Killian on a battered old couch, his guitar resting on his lap, and worry etched onto his face.

“Swan,” he said quickly, the tension clear in his voice. “I, uh…” Mary Margaret watched Emma anxiously, and she saw Will and Victor exchange curious glances. She was saved from further awkwardness by a loud drum rhythm from Will, obviously eager to get started.

"Come on, you lot," he said, twirling his drumsticks masterfully through his fingers. "Enough jabbering. I need to get that section of _By My Side_ sorted." Clearly grateful for the redirection, Killian slipped into musician mode immediately and the room was soon filled with his voice, rich and full. She sat next to Mary Margaret, her eyes drifting constantly back to him, despite her best efforts to stay casually neutral. She knew the song a little, another INXS selection, one he had suggested she listen to back before it had all gone to hell.

When they finished and began discussing their next selection, Emma turned to Mary Margaret, who was clearly eager to avoid the conversation she knew was coming.

"You must have missed this," she said quickly, “I know you and Killian spent a lot of time talking music and you always loved the gigs…”

“Mary Margaret,” Emma said firmly, “What was he singing before?” Mary Margaret took a deep breath in, casting a cautious glance at Killian, who was still deep in discussion with the band.

“Maybe…” she began, but they were interrupted by the sound of high heels clicking towards them. A dark haired woman burst into the room, her mouth in a tight line, her eyes flashing from side to side.

“What are you all doing here?” she snarled. “I didn’t authorise anyone on site today.”

Killian stepped forward to face her. “Good afternoon to you, Regina.” His voice was measured but the sarcasm was clear. She humphed out a breath, but said nothing. “Our Friday rehearsal has been a standing arrangement for some time.”

“Well, my sister made a lot of _arrangements_ with this band and its various associates, but that doesn’t mean I will be.” Emma felt her body tense at the implication, catching Killian’s eye as he checked to see if she was all right. She gave him a small nod as he turned his attention back to the woman. “I am managing this bar now, thanks to her inability to recognise a deadbeat when she sees one, and a few things are going to change around here.”

Mary Margaret put a subtle arm across Emma’s legs, clearly sensing her need to respond to the last comment but Killian beat her to the mark. “That’s enough, Ms Mills,” he said. “I am happy to arrange a meeting to renegotiate the terms of our engagement here but this is getting us nowhere. We are performing tomorrow night and would _appreciate_ ,” this word came out almost as a hiss - “the opportunity to practise as we have done in the past.”

“I’m sure you would,” Regina smirked, “but I would _appreciate_ you and your groupies,” at this she waved a dismissive hand at Emma and Mary Margaret - “vacating my premises.”  Emma was on her feet before Mary Margaret could even attempt to calm her.

“I’m sorry, just to be clear about what is happening here, you are throwing out the house band from their rehearsal?” Emma stood toe to toe with Regina, her eyes flashing although her voice was eerily calm. “The band that have had a queue out the door and down the street of this establishment every time they have played for the last two years?”

“And who the hell are you?” Regina asked, the corner of her mouth raised in a sneer.  

“Emma Swan,” she answered, not breaking eye contact with the woman, who raised a sardonic eyebrow at her brazenness. Killian moved to stand beside her, a show of quiet solidarity as his shoulder brushed hers.

“And is that supposed to mean something to me?” Emma was silently fuming at the arrogance of the woman but she knew she had to remain calm. She exhaled slowly, realising she really had no helpful answer to that question.

“I am…” she began.

“...our new manager,” Will finished from behind his drum kit. Emma turned to him in disbelief but his only response was a wild grin accompanied by a rakish wink. Victor nodded his agreement enthusiastically and she felt Killian nudge her shoulder more firmly. Casting her eyes across the three of them, their faces hopeful and encouraging, she sighed in resignation.

“That’s right,” Emma agreed, smiling tightly at Regina,”I’m their manager.”

Regina raised her eyebrows sky high. “Indeed. Well, we will have that renegotiation meeting now then, shall we?” Regina indicated towards the door, an attempt to usher Emma out of the room. There was no doubt the bar manager was counting on her being unprepared and desperate to seal a deal of any kind.

She had _not_ counted on Emma Swan being Emma Swan.  

“Great,” Emma answered. “I need a couple of minutes with the boys and I will see you in your office.” Emma mirrored Regina’s arm sweep towards the door, a smile fixed on her face. Frustration flashed in the dark haired woman’s eyes for just a moment, before she fixed her professional expression in place once again and stormed out the door.

They all stood in silence for a few seconds and Emma felt the tension she hadn’t even realised was in her seep away. As she recovered her composure, Killian swept her up into a bear hug, laughing heartily as he planted an over exaggerated kiss on her cheek.

“You were amazing, love,” he grinned.

“Bloody brilliant,” added Will as he rushed towards her, wrapping his arms around both her and Killian. Emma could not help but grin back at them, the feeling of belonging to this group overwhelming. Victor winked at her and Mary Margaret squeezed her shoulder, struggling to get closer as Will rocked them from side to side.

“OK, OK,” she said, extricating herself from the drummer’s long arms. “That’ll do.” Emma pointed a finger sharply at Will. “That’s the last time you blindside me, _mate_.” Her attempt at his accent was pitiful at best and he snorted with laughter. Beside her, Killian snickered in her ear, his arm still draped casually around her shoulders. Emma turned to add her two cents about him laughing at her, but she was stopped in her tracks by the look of unadulterated pride she could see in his eyes.

It had been a long time since someone had looked at her like that. It was so real, she almost believed it.

“Give her hell, Swan,” he whispered, tightening his arm around her for just a second. “You’ll be magnificent.”

The sounds of Will recounting her conversation with Regina to an already well aware Mary Margaret and Victor seemed to fade as they stood there. His blue eyes seemed deeper, somehow, seemed to say so many things that his words had not. She bit down on her bottom lip, supremely aware of him - his arm firm across her shoulders, the tang of his cologne, his lips smooth and pink and so close that all she could think of…

She shook her head, breaking the spell, knowing she still had a job to do. Disappointment seemed to flicker in his eyes, just for a second, but when she looked back to him again, his faith in her was once again all she could see.

She raised her voice over the noise. “Well, if I am going to do this, you better hold up your end of the bargain. You are going to need to be bloody brilliant -” she grinned at Will - “if you are going to back up the praise I am about to heap on you. So, practise.” Turning to Mary Margaret, she added, “I haven’t forgotten what we were talking about. Still glad you roped me into this?”

Mary Margaret smiled knowingly. “Very. Now go manage.” And with one hand placed firmly between Emma’s shoulder blades, she marched her out the door.

* * *

 

She had been in her car, parked outside Killian’s apartment for close to thirty minutes, the day’s events replaying over and over in her mind. The song, the stand off with Regina, managing the band, Killian’s face when she told the boys about the extra rehearsal time and little cash bonus she had got them, the song.

The song.

Mary Margaret had insisted she needed to talk to Killian directly, despite the fact she clearly knew the whens and whys of Killian writing a song for her. She gave away nothing, just repeated over and over for Emma to follow her heart.

So she had. And it had led her here.

Gathering her courage, she pushed open the door of the bug and strode towards his door, step after step, not allowing herself the opportunity to turn around and chicken out. Her hand went up to knock, but she hesitated, placing her palm flat against the solid wood and her forehead resting next to it.

He loved her. And she…

Steeling herself, she knocked firmly on his door. Emma heard his footsteps, louder with each step he took towards the door until the locks clicked and he appeared, sweatpants low on his hips, his chest bare and his shirt flung over his shoulder in his hurry to open the door.

“Swan,” he breathed, his face alight at the sight of her, sending a wave of pleasure down Emma’s spine and turning her legs to jelly. He was beautiful - there was no other word, she thought - as her eyes roamed from his face to the dusting of dark hair on his chest, trailing down across his taut stomach and out of sight. Bracing herself against the door frame, she tried to focus on the reason she had come, on the grain of the wood, the bevelled edge of the number on the door - anything that wasn’t the overwhelming desire to push him back against the wall and find out how those dreams should end.

Breathe, Emma, she told herself, and she counted to five in her head as the air went in and out. Her words, when they came, came in a rush.

“You wrote a song for me.” It wasn’t a question. Killian ran his tongue nervously across his lips - no, don’t do that, she thought - and reached up to scratch behind his ear, a telltale sign he had been thrown off guard.

“You’d better come in, love,” he said matter of factly, ushering her in the door as he pulled his t shirt over his head. He followed her to the living room, indicating to the sofa, where she sat and tried to calm herself. He appeared beside her, two glasses and a bottle of dark rum in his hand and poured a generous amount for each of them. Killian took a measured sip of his and Emma did the same, the liquor warm as it rolled down her throat, somehow calming amidst the chaos of her mind.

He said nothing, but reached for his iPad, and with a couple of swipes the room was filled with music. Emma swallowed hard as Killian’s voice came in on the track, pulling her legs up to her chin and wrapping her arms around her knees as she listened. She had always loved his voice, loved the feeling that was always behind the words he sang. But these - these were _his_ words.

As the song came to an end, he refilled the two glasses before taking Emma’s hand in his. “I wrote a song for you, Swan.”

“It’s beautiful,” Emma said simply, her glass untouched on the coffee table. The first shot had calmed her, but she didn’t want any more to be clouding her own emotions - or her judgement.

“It’s true.” His thumb moved rhythmically across the back of her hand as he breathed in deeply, waiting for her to respond, letting her take the lead. “But it is far from the first time I have sung for you, love.”

Emma remembered. Watching him sing, knowing he was saying goodbye to her, had nearly broken her heart. Before Neal managed to make sure the job was done properly.

“It’s not the same, Killian. That was a goodbye, this…” She could feel a tear spill over and run silently down her cheek.

Before she could finish, he leaned over and took her face in his hand, a wry smile on his lips. “I was singing for you well before that, love.” He paused, eyes locked with hers as his thumb moved to brush away another tear that had begun to slide down her cheek. “It’s always been for you, Emma. You must know that.”

Emma wasn’t sure _what_ she knew any more - except that she was tired of fighting the fact that she wanted him. Unfolding her legs from under her, she moved towards him on the sofa, wrapping her arms around his waist and nestling her head into his shoulder. She felt him tense, just for a moment, before he embraced her, his lips brushing the top of her head.

The music from his tablet changed and the opening bars of _Never Tear Us Apart_ swelled through the apartment. Emma felt him chuckle and she pulled back, her eyes questioning. There were still tears dotted on her cheeks and he kissed them away with feather soft touches before touching his forehead to hers.

“This one has always been for you, Emma. Since the first day I sang it and you messaged me in the middle of the night about it.” He laughed at the memory and Emma reached up to trace her finger over the crinkles that formed by his eyes, any doubts she had pushed aside in the warmth of his smile. There was only happiness remaining; the fear had melted away in the closeness of him, in the simple joy of him loving her.  

 

Her hand curled around his neck, pulling him to her as she touched her lips to his. She could feel him smile against her mouth, his arm pulling her closer before he kissed her in earnest. His lips worked against hers, hands pulling through her hair as Emma ran her fingers lightly along the vee of his t-shirt, fingers toying with the dark whorls of hair escaping from the fabric. She paused for breath, pulling back slightly as the hand that had been tangled in her curls moved to caress her face, his thumb brushing across her chin - a touch so intimate she felt a tug of desire deep within her and she let a soft moan escape her lips.

He raised an expressive eyebrow at the sound, before following the path of his thumb with a line of tiny kisses. He continued up the soft skin of her cheek until his lips ghosted over her ear, nose nuzzling into her hair. Emma rolled her head back, the sensitive skin of her neck screaming out for his attentions, but before he followed her lead he whispered in her ear.  

“God, Emma, I’ve wanted you like this for so long. Will you let me love you?”

Emma nodded, her smile soft as he pressed his lips to her forehead. In that moment there was nothing she wanted more than for him to love her. And to know that she felt it, even if the words didn’t come as easily to her.

She caressed his cheek. “I want to be with you, Killian. More than anything.” His hand captured hers and he placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist, the crook of her elbow, her shoulder before his lips found the pulse point on her neck, nipping and sucking until she moaned again. Emma's hands roamed his chest and down the hard lines of his torso until she found the hem of his shirt, slipping eager hands up and under the fabric, his skin warm and inviting under her fingertips.

"Should have left it off," he groaned, all the encouragement Emma needed to work the soft material up towards his shoulders until he pulled the offending garment over his head and tossed it aside. She let her fingers wander over him, wanting to map every inch with her touch. His lips found hers again as he gently lowered her on to her back, his tongue swiping across her mouth till she allowed him entrance. As the kiss deepened, his fingers teased at the hemline of her sweater before making their way up her body to caress the soft swell of her breast. She sighed into his mouth, desire pooling low in her belly at his touch.

She had no idea how long they were like this - tongues curled together as their hands explored each other desperately, months of unresolved tension finally released. Her body thrummed with the nearness of him, his arousal evident as he lay above her. When they came up for air, his eyes spoke of love and want and long held dreams fulfilled. She hoped hers told the same.

“Come to bed with me, Emma,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, a sound that made every nerve in her body twitch. She nodded and he stood, reaching out a hand and pulling her to her feet. He kissed her again, hard and insistent as they stumbled towards his room. They stopped once to wrench her sweater off, his eyes widening at the curve of her breasts contrasted against white lace. “Jesus, Swan, you’re incredible,” he whispered into the valley between them as he kissed the delicate flesh, and she shivered beneath his touch.

They stopped again when she bumped into the wall, and she took the chance to pull him hard against her, arching her hips into his erection, his urgent groan making her want him even more. "I need you," she breathed into his ear, wetness pooling between her legs as she slipped her hands beneath the waistband of his sweats.

They fell onto his bed, their clothes discarded as if by magic, hands and mouths roaming freely in a tangle of legs and bedsheets. When finally they came together, they sighed in unison as their bodies melded, Killian whispering words of devotion as he brought her to the edge. They fell together, her hands in his hair and his lips on her neck, their lovemaking all she had hoped for and more.

Sated, they curled together under the sheets, Killian’s arms circling her while Emma drew lazy patterns on his forearms with her fingers, enjoying the quiet intimacy. She listened as his breathing began to equalize, a murmured “Amazing, love,” his last concession to wakefulness. And Emma followed close behind, relaxing into the warmth of his arms and his love.

* * *

 

The surroundings were not so unfamiliar this time, no alcohol fuelled pain to dull her senses, but Emma awoke disoriented nevertheless. As her eyes blinked and adjusted to the dark, she felt the hardness of his body behind her, his arm draped across her hip as he slept and she remembered all he had said and done. Her breathing quickened as she realised how long he had loved her, how long he had waited to be with her like this. That he was all in, and if she messed this up she would break his heart.

He didn’t know how badly messing it up would break hers.

Emma could feel the tension building in her muscles as her now wide awake mind began to catalogue all the possible disasters that lay ahead. She battled to focus on Killian sleeping peacefully beside her, on the way he had looked at her when she had said she wanted him, on the way his body had worshipped hers - anything to try and quell the niggling voice of doubt that a lifetime of abandonment had instilled. But every joyous thought of love and hope was turned on its head by what ifs and worries. It was too soon, she was rebounding, she didn’t deserve happiness. Didn’t deserve him.

Panic setting in, Emma slid out from under Killian’s arm, looking back at his sleeping form and biting her lip in regret for what she was about to do. Her hands were shaking as she gathered her clothes, making her way out of his room and towards the door. She dressed quickly, tears rolling down her cheeks and made for the door, pausing only to look at the bottle of rum abandoned on the coffee table. With a deep sigh, she picked it up and went out the door and into the night.

~~~~

“Emma?” The voice that jolted her awake was full of concern - and loud. Much too loud. Emma blinked several times, focusing her eyes on the objects she could see close to her - an almost empty bottle of rum and her white lace bra. Her head was fuzzy and her eyes felt swollen and sore. She sat up slowly, pressing her hand against her throbbing temple, and found herself face to face with Mary Margaret, a worried expression on her face.

The teacher put her hand on Emma’s knee. “What happened, Emma? Did you see Killian?” Emma rubbed the heel of her hand across her eyes then hung her head, tears welling in her eyes.

Mary Margaret was insistent. “Emma, talk to me. You went to see Killian and now here you are passed out on the couch.” She picked up the discarded underwear. “Minus this, apparently. What on earth happened?”

A huge sob wracked Emma’s body and Mary Margaret came to sit beside her, a comforting arm around her shoulder as she fought the tears. “I slept with him,” she whispered, memories of being in his arms, of his fingers, his lips, flooding her mind and overwhelming her.

“You love him, Emma, it’s okay that you slept with him."

Emma turned abruptly to her friend, her head rebelling against the sudden movement. "Is it okay that I snuck out in the middle of the night and left him? Because that's exactly what I did."

A look of dismay flashed in Mary Margaret’s eyes, before a tender smile reappeared and she tightened her embrace around Emma's shoulders, pulling her in closer. They sat in silence, until Mary Margaret stood and walked from the room. Emma watched her walk away, confused for a moment until she realised what was going on. Mary Margaret was Killian’s friend, not hers. She knew how hurt he would be when he woke to an empty bed and so did Mary Margaret and she had chosen her side.

But before Emma had mentally packed her belongings for the inevitable move out, Mary Margaret returned and placed a box of tissues and a large water bottle on the table in front of her. From her pocket, she pulled Emma's phone and handed it to her. Emma vaguely remembered dumping it with her keys when she had come in, afraid to face a barrage of messages from him when he realised what she had done. Or worse, none at all.

The message light was flashing blue.

"Do you want to tell me what happened, sweetheart?" Mary Margaret asked softly. "Killian obviously wants to know."

Emma sighed deeply and swiped across her lock screen. _You have 10 unread messages._ She knew she wasn't prepared to face his heartbreak quite yet so she placed the device face down on the table and took a long swig from the water bottle. She turned to Mary Margaret, calmed by the look of support she saw on her face, the patient hand that now rested on Emma's knee.

"He wrote a song for me, Mary Margaret," she began, faltering as her breath hitched in yet another sob. Mary Margaret nodded and waited for her to continue. “He wants to be with me so badly, and I was so scared I would let him down that I ran.”

Mary Margaret looked at her intently, a soft smile on her lips as she took Emma’s hands in hers. “Do you want to be with him, Emma? If there was nothing to stand in your way, no worries or doubts?” Emma nodded slowly. She wished it was that simple - but clearly the biggest obstacle to her happiness right now was herself.

“Then talk to him, explain what happened. He will understand.”

“Why? I wouldn’t.” An image of Killian’s face when she had said she wanted to be with him flashed before her, his eyes alight with hope. And she had walked away. How could he possibly be okay with it?

Mary Margaret had not let go of her hands and her eyes had a knowing look, as if she had had this conversation before. Emma had the disconcerting feeling that there was nothing happening in her own head that wasn’t immediately clear to her housemate   

“Emma, has Killian told you about Milah?” Emma’s brow creased in confusion, unsure what Killian’s ex had to do with the mess she had made of things.

“Yeah, he did. She broke his heart and now I’ve done it too.” Her voice was harsher than she intended but Mary Margaret actually laughed.

“Oh Emma, you have no idea what meeting you did for him. He was just like you after Milah, guarded and frightened and he chased off more than one lovely woman because of it.” Mary Margaret brushed a lock of Emma’s hair off her face, her smile warm and reassuring as Emma considered her words. “Until he met you and he started to feel again - you made him better, even if you couldn’t be with him. That’s how I know he will understand.”

Emma could only imagine what her face looked like as the realisation dawned that all hope might not be lost.

“Call him, Emma, let him know you are all right.” Mary Margaret handed her her phone but she faltered, finger hovering above the screen. She couldn’t apologise and make it right by phone. He deserved more than that. Clearly the reason for her hesitation was clear to her housemate as she squeezed Emma’s knee and said, ”Text him then. At least apologise for taking the man's rum." This was accompanied by a mischievous wink that Emma could not help but chuckle at. "You’ll see him tonight - you have a band to manage after all. Then drink that water and go and get some sleep.”

“Thanks Mom,” Emma smiled, earning a playful swat from Mary Margaret as she got up to leave. As she swiped her phone, she did feel lighter somehow, more sure that there could still be a chance with Killian, despite her mistake.

_Emma: I’m so so sorry. Can we talk tonight? E_

The reply came back almost immediately.

_Killian: I think we should. Till tonight, love._

* * *

 

The band was on the stage before she arrived - a combination of hungover sleep and procrastination making her far later than she had intended - and she stood at the rear of the bar, just watching. Always professional, there was no sign in his voice that anything may have been amiss, but knowing him as she did, his eyes told another story. She saw concern and hurt, mixed with something she could only pray was hope that they could fix things.

Emma found herself drawn to him, despite her intentions to stay back until a moment arose. Making her way closer to the front, she stayed towards the edges of the floor, amazed as ever at the way his voice could draw the people in, how it captured them in the slow songs and had them dancing for the quick. She found herself in the middle of the dance floor, with no knowledge of how she got there, when he saw her. His shoulders seemed to relax, his eyes softened - and she breathed out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding in relief.

When the song ended, he flung his guitar strap over his shoulder and jumped from the stage, leaving Will to announce a break. His eyes stayed steadily on her as he moved through the crowd, seemingly unaware of people in his path. He stopped just in front of her, but made no move to reach out.   

“Swan.” There was a waver in his voice, infusing her name with more meaning than she had ever known. Her apology sat on her lips, but she was unable to say the words with the image of him waking alone so clear in her mind. She swallowed hard, trusting her voice to do what it needed to.

“I stole your rum.”

The corners of his mouth twitched and his blue eyes flashed before his expression became stern. He had closed the gap between them slightly and she felt his closeness like a bolt of electricity.

"That you did, Swan. Poor form, stealing a man's rum." She hung her head, and he placed a gentle hand under her chin and tipped her face up to meet his. "Especially so soon after stealing his virtue."

Emma could not contain the snort of amusement, closely followed by a bolt of desire at the memory of that apparent theft. She moved subtly, until there was no space left between them, their faces almost touching. Despite standing in the middle of the dance floor, in that moment there was nothing but him.

"Really," she teased, her hands sliding up his chest as he hooked his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans, "because that didn't feel like a first time performance."

He pulled her hips against his, his nose in her hair before whispering, "What about a last first time performance, Swan? Because I am in this, with you, for the long haul."

She breathed in deeply, suddenly aware of her surroundings, of eyes trained on them from all corners. Music was again filling the air around them, and as she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the relative privacy of the hallway behind the stage she realised his bandmates had taken up their instruments and were playing something soft and romantic.

It was only when she found herself with her back against the wall and Killian’s hands tangling in her hair that she realised it was _Kiss The Girl_ from _The Little Mermaid_. She laughed softly, and he raised his eyebrow in surprise, before the same realisation dawned on him.

“Smarter than I give them credit for,” Killian murmured, his lips nuzzling against her neck with soft little kisses that made her heart race and her hands pull him close. As his mouth meandered its way towards hers, she pulled away, staring intently into his eyes, now dark with desire. His look was questioning as she took a deep breath, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek softly.

“It was so amazing - _you_ are so amazing - and I panicked.” He said nothing, just rested his head on hers and breathed with her as she gathered her courage. “But I love you, Killian, please believe that.”

She waited for him to speak, to respond to her admission but instead he just smiled, his eyes roaming her face as if he was memorising her in this moment. Then in an instant, they darkened and he pulled her towards him, his fingers cradling her head as his lips devoured hers, firm and insistent. His tongue swept across her bottom lip, leaving Emma grateful for the solid wall behind her as his kisses left her dazed and desperate for more. He trailed a thumb along her jawline as they came up for air, before placing the softest of kisses to her swollen lips.

“I believe you Emma Swan,” he breathed, “and I love you.” He folded her into his embrace, and she breathed in the comfort of knowing he was hers, her head tucked into the crease of his shoulder.

“Um...pardon me, folks,” came an amused voice and they both turned to see Will leaning casually against the wall, a wide grin splitting his face. “I ‘ate to interrupt such a precious momen’ but there is the small matter of a gig that we need to finish ‘ere. You know, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Laughing, Killian kissed her cheek and with his arm across her shoulder, led her towards the bar. As they passed Will, he looked her up and down before winking wickedly. “And you call yourself our manager.”

Emma suspected it wasn’t the last eye roll she would be dishing out in that position.

As they reached the stage, Killian took her hand and raised it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers for a moment. There was a chorus of applause from the waiting patrons, bringing a deep flush of red to Emma’s cheeks and a hearty laugh from Killian, who took an exaggerated bow before leaning in close to her. His breath on her sensitive skin set her aflame yet again, mental calculations of how much longer before he could take her home running madly through her head.

“Now, Swan,” he whispered. “I better get back to work. Please don’t run off while I’m gone.” With a lascivious wink he had jumped onto the stage and taken up his guitar, pointing behind her at something or someone. She turned to see a table full of familiar faces, Ruby, Belle, Elsa, even Mary Margaret and David all waving and blowing exaggerated kisses at her. Emma grinned and went to join them, sliding in the booth to eager voices and enthusiastic congratulations.

Killian’s voice cut through the noise at the table. “Thanks everyone. Just a small personal matter I had to take care of there.” There was a deafening round of applause, cheers and catcalls filling the air as Killian ran his hand through his hair before speaking again, his voice lower, less playful.

“This one is always for you, love.”

The opening bars of _Never Tear Us Apart_ rang through the bar, before Killian’s voice began, rich and soulful as he sang the words she knew now had always been for her. Her eyes stayed fixed with his, the man who had been her dearest friend and was now that and so much more; her body warm and alive with thoughts of him and the life that lay ahead of them. And over that, the soundtrack of them - a playlist that would always come back to this song.

With a smile, she pulled out her phone, knowing there was a message she needed to send.

_EMMA: Never Tear Us Apart. INXS. Australian. Our song._

 

 

 

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